A Twist of Webs and Reality
by Cloudcity'sBookworm
Summary: Left in the care of their aunt and uncle at the age of four, Lizzie and Peter Parker grew up never knowing what had really happened to their parents. Then, one day, Peter comes across their father's old briefcase which holds some clues as to what might have actually happened. However, they may have gotten into something that's way over their heads. *Set during the ASM Films*
1. Prologue

**For those of you who don't know, this is an AU to my original _Spider-Man _story, _Of Webs and Reality: The Story of Spider-Woman_. **

**Because of the events that have occurred in both _The Amazing Spider-Man _and _The Amazing Spider-Man 2_, things will not be the same as they are in the original _Spider-Man _films. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Spider-Man _in any way, shape, or form. If I did, Lizzie would be a cannon character _and _I'd have a part in the movies. Obviously, the only character I own is the OFC, Elizabeth "Lizzie" Parker.**

**Enjoy!**

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"Five, four, three, two, one. Ready or not, here I come," called Peter from where he'd been left to count.

Lizzie, who could hear her twin's muffled voice from where she was hiding, stifled her giggles by covering her mouth. She didn't want to be found. Lizzie planed on winning the game _and_ round, thank you very much.

Their father had suggested a few rounds of hide and seek when he noticed how restless the siblings had become. He'd promised to play a round with them after he finished his 'project for the day', as he liked to call it. The only thing he had to do before sending them on their way was chose who was it and who was to hide. Peter ended up losing the coin toss, giving Lizzie the chance to choose whether to be it or not (she chose the latter).

The young girl stilled, not daring to move an inch further into the kitchen pantry. Even though four years old, Lizzie knew that as long as she went for the less obvious choice she could go unseen for minutes, even hours, if she desired. Besides, if Peter were to approach her hiding spot, all Lizzie had to do was bury herself even deeper into the tight spot she'd crammed herself in. She knew that it would only work if Peter didn't step in to further examine the dark, crowded space.

As she waited, Lizzie glued her eyes upon the white door, blinking her brown eyes every once in a while. Lizzie took this game very seriously. It was one of the very few things she actually had a chance at beating Peter (the jerk was basically gifted in almost everything he set his brilliant mind to).

Lizzie didn't know if it had been minutes or hours, but she eventually heard the sound of heavy footsteps a few feet away from where she was hiding.

"Peter. Where is your sister?" said their mother, voice full of worry.

"How should I know?" was his reply.

If it wasn't for the fear in her mother's voice, Lizzie would have stayed where she was, hidden away like a cave-dwelling monster. Opening the door, Lizzie peeked out into the kitchen's dim lighting, eyes squinted. "Mommy?" she said, making herself known.

Her mother, who had placed Peter by the stove, turned around, worry turning into relief.

"Mommy. What's wrong? Why are you scared?" Lizzie asked, innocently. "Did I scare you? I'm sorry, Mommy. I didn't mean to. Cross my heart!"

Tears clouded her mother's gaze for a split second before she wiped them away. "No, sweetie. You didn't. I just. . . . We need to get ready to leave."

"Why?" asked Peter.

Grabbing Peter and Lizzie's hands, their mother led them upstairs in a hurry. "You're going to Aunt May and Uncle Ben's."

"Why?" Lizzie echoed her brother's question.

"Because your father and I are going on a trip that we can't take you on."

Lizzie and Peter remained silent as they packed a small amount of their clothes and a couple of their toys. Even when the family of four got into their car and drove to Uncle Ben and Aunt May's house they never spoke a single word.

By the time the vehicle was parked in front of its destination, the rain had begun to come down even harder than before, as if to mourn for what was to come.

When they reached the front door, Aunt May and Uncle Ben were there, waiting to greet the small family. Before the adults talked, they placed Lizzie and Peter on the living room floor along with their luggage.

"Stay here. Mommy and I need to have a grown-up talk with Aunt May and Uncle Ben," said their father before he got up and went into the kitchen.

For the next passing moments, the Parker twins watched the quiet conversation unfold from where they stood. At one point, Aunt May looked where her niece and nephew obediently waited. Upon seeing their innocent faces, Aunt May gave a small lip smile. Pity, sadness, and love filled her kind, brown eyes. Lizzie always thought her aunt was pretty with her long, slightly curled, brown hair, gorgeous gaze which showed a motherly soul, and wrinkles which were earned after many years of smiles and laughter. Ever since she could remember, Lizzie dreamed of one day becoming just as beautiful as her aunt.

Peter hid his face, embarrassed that he'd been caught. Lizzie, however, continued looking at the people whom she loved the most as they got up and gave each other brief hugs. When they began walking towards the twins, Lizzie tugged on Peter's sweater sleeve. He had just looked up when the others entered the room.

"Daddy?" asked Lizzie. "Where are you and Mommy going?"

Stopping in front of his son and daughter, he told the twins to follow him. Once they reached the center of the living room, he kneeled down to their level and said, "You two are going to stay with Aunt May and Uncle Ben for a little while."

"I wanna go with you."

"Me, too," agreed Lizzie.

"No," said their father without missing a beat. Reaching out his large, calloused hand, he brushed Peter's bangs and kissed the top of his head, lingering longer than need be. Bringing his lips away from Peter, he turned his attention on Lizzie, doing the same as he did with her sibling. When he was done, he got up and led them towards the others.

Their mother didn't waste a second. Getting down on her knees, she brought her babies in for a tight hug. Bringing herself away, she stared at their sad and confused faces. She began to play with their hair and began to list off things her in-laws already knew. "They don't like crusts on their sandwiches, and Lizzie likes her's cut into the shape of a heart. Peter likes to sleep with a little light on, and Lizzie can't sleep without her stuffed dog, Scruffy. He's. . . he's in her bag."

"Mary," interrupted her husband as he helped her get back on her feet. "Come on."

"Oh, gosh," she silently sobbed as she was led to the door.

"Mommy?" called Lizzie, eyes full of concern for her mother.

Lizzie's mother looked at her. At the sight of the little girl, she lost it. As tears fell from her eyes, she forced herself to look away from her daughter and continued moving forward, never looking back.

Peter began to follow his parents. "Dad," he begged.

Their father looked down at Peter, his innocent, trusting eyes pleading him to stay. All their father could think to say in response was, "Be good." And then he turned and disappeared into the cold, wet night.

When the door was closed, Peter walked up to it and stared out at the man he looked up to. Aunt May, worried for her nephew, bent down and placed her hands on top his tiny shoulders as she watched her brother-in-law drive away.

Going up to her uncle, Lizzie pulled on the bottom of his shirt. "When's Mommy and Daddy coming back, Uncle Ben?"

Uncle Ben looked down at the brunette. He too wondered when they'd return. "I don't know," he told her, truthfully.

Lizzie glanced down at her new pink and white shoes. Why would her parents leave she and her brother in the care of their aunt and uncle without telling anyone when they'd return? This was the question that remained in the four-year-old's mind for the next thirteen years of her life.

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**Yes, fans of _Of Webs and Reality: The Story of Spider-Woman_, Lizzie will be slightly different personality wise and very different appearance wise. No, I do not know if she will become Spider-Woman in this story. I do apologize. It _is _an AU to _OWaR_, after all.**

**I will try to post the next chapter as soon as I can.**

**One more thing before we part. How many of you have seen the new film? Wasn't it freakin', super, mega, awesome?! Max's character is the most tragic story I have ever encountered in all my readings and movie watching. I wanted to cry (and I almost did) and hug him tight. I can't believe how cruel people can be!**

**My father, who was my date to the movies yesterday, was kind enough to let me rant and get all of my feelings off of my chest. During this, he shared a comment that I think is absolutely amazing: "It just shows that we should appreciate others who are treated like he was; that we should accept them and acknowledge their abilities and their value as a person. If people had done that to him [Max], if they had given him the appreciation and credit he deserved, what had happened to him wouldn't have occurred."**

**Lesson of the day (and film): Don't treat others like crap, and don't make them feel invisible. People have feelings and should be treated with respect. You never know if that person needs a friend, a smile, or to be treated like a human being. Even a simple 'hello' or a 'how are you doing today?' could make their day or week. **

**So, peace out, my lovelies.**

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**~Edited 06/25/14~**


	2. Thirteen Years Later

**Hello! Sorry it's taken so long. I've had a busy week. But don't worry! I've worked on this little by little since our last meeting :)**

**Enjoy!**

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_Question twenty-four: How does the broken unicorn symbolize the character Laura? Explain and give examples from at least two passages which support your answers._

Lizzie groaned and dropped her mechanical pencil on top of her English assignment. Her friend, having heard Lizzie's distress, asked without tearing her sight away from the book she was reading, "What is it now?"

"Everything." The brunette dramatically dropped her head upon the table they sat at, only to quickly bring it back up when pain met her forehead. "Ow," she moaned as she rubbed circles on the sore spot, trying to lessen the discomfort she felt.

"Oh, no. Not this again," said Lizzie's friend with an eye roll, having referred to the teen's speech and actions. "You know, you can't use 'everything' as an excuse every time your brain shuts down."

"But it's true! Everything _is _wrong! I can't figure out what to write," exclaimed Lizzie, hands thrown in the air, silently saying, 'I give up with life.'

Glancing at the piece of paper, her friend gave an answer. "Laura is like the broken unicorn because she, like the unicorn, use to stand out, wasn't a part of the crowd. When the horn broke off of its head, it signified how Jim had broken her, signifying how it had helped her become like the 'other horses'. And I don't need to give you examples from the text because you're on the page which supports my explanation."

Looking down at her copy of _The Glass Menagerie, _Lizzie, in deed, found what her friend had just finished telling her. "Gwen Stacy, I love you," proclaimed Lizzie, jotting down an answer on her worksheet.

"I know."

Once Lizzie had finished writing, she moved on to the next question. When she finally reached the last question, Lizzie heard people running towards the other end of the outdoor cafeteria, chanting once they reached the place they wanted to be.

Looking up from her work, Lizzie noticed that a crowd had huddled together in a closed circle, their excitement coming off of them like static electricity. The eighteen-year-old shook her head and looked at her friend. "I bet there's either a fight going on or that a poor underclassman's being picked on," Lizzie thought out-loud.

Gwen nodded her head in agreement.

Not long after Lizzie finished her statement, a hush came over the crowd, a grunt of shock filling the still air. A loud _smack _echoed throughout the yard, and those gathered near the fight cringed, as if they'd taken the beating.

"Come on! Come on! Get up, Parker!" someone shouted.

Lizzie felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. There was only two people in the school who went by 'Parker', one of them being her and the other her twin, Peter. It didn't take a genius to figure out that _her_ _brother_ was getting his butt kicked.

Getting up on her feet, Lizzie began to rush forward, only to be stopped by Gwen. "Don't worry. I'll take care of it," Gwen assured Lizzie, one of her hands on the brunette's shoulder, before she strutted away.

Despite her friend's vow, Lizzie followed Gwen, pace full of power and rage. As Gwen went up to the bully, Lizzie pushed her way through the crowd until she reached her sibling. While Lizzie bent down to help her brother, Gwen shouted, "Flash!" The boy who had punched Peter turned to look at Gwen as she calmly continued with, "We still on for after school today? My house, three-thirty?"

A look of fear came over Flash as he gave a barely noticeable nod.

"I hope you've been doing your homework. Last time I was. . ." – Gwen strained her neck, adding emphasis to what she was saying– "very disappointed in you."

Flash, not wanting his private tutoring lessons to be revealed to the world, tried to get around Gwen. "Okay, move," he timidly demanded as he took a step toward the Parkers.

"No," said Gwen, tone firm. "How about we go to class? Hmm? How about it?"

As she said this, the bell rang, warning the students to get to their next class.

Realizing that he'd been backed into a corner, Flash turned and mumbled, "Whatever."

Seeing that the event was now over, the crowd began to disperse. It was like the fight had never accrued.

When Gwen glanced over her shoulder, Lizzie mouthed, 'You're a saint.' The blonde gave a small smile in response.

"I'll see you after class, Gwen," said Lizzie.

Getting the subtle hint that Lizzie wanted to help her brother on her own, Gwen nodded her head. "Yeah. Sure."

Once Gwen left, Lizzie turned her attention back on Peter. "You okay, Pete? Did he hurt you?" Lizzie asked, concerned.

Her twin, in response, gave her a thumbs up. "Yeah, I'm good. All he did was beat the living daylights out of me," he said as he reached for his camera.

"Where'd he get you?"

Peter gripped her wrist in his hand, stopping Lizzie from touching his face. The look his sister gave him was full of annoyance and worry. "Please, don't fuss over me."

Glancing down, both Peter and Lizzie gained an identical downcast face at the sight of Peter's beaten-up camera.

"You've got to be kidding me." Lizzie snatched it from Peter's hold to further examine the damage. "I can't believe it. Hurting you was bad enough. Did they really have to take it out on this little guy, too?"

Lizzie wouldn't have been this upset about something as trivial as a stupid camera if she hadn't saved up for it for weeks (it was her Christmas present to Peter four years ago).

"It's fine. I'll just. . . have someone fix it," said Peter, taking the camera out of his sister's hold. When he was back on his feet, Peter reached his free hand out for Lizzie to grab. She accepted it and was immediately pulled back into a standing position. "We better get to class," said Peter, walking towards his skateboard, which was only a few feet away.

"I don't, but _y__ou_ do. I'm free this hour, remember?"

Peter bent down to grab his dearly loved skateboard and held said board up in the air in a gesture of farewell.

Lizzie chuckled and shook her head when Peter got on his skateboard and rode away, leaving her alone. Sometimes she couldn't help but be amused with him while other times she either wanted to strangle him or slap him upside the head. Lizzie really didn't know what to do with him, nor did she know what she'd ever do without him.

~A~T~O~W~A~R~

The sight which greeted Lizzie and Peter once they arrived home from school was the same as it had been for the past thirteen years: Aunt May, in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

Lizzie felt her mouth begin to water from the scent of spiced meat as it sizzled on the stove. She had a feeling as to what they'd be having tonight. "Hey, Aunt May! We're back!" exclaimed Lizzie as she and Peter joined her in the tiny space. "What are we having?"

"Spaghetti and meatballs," replied Aunt May as she chopped away at some herbs.

_Yep. I knew it._

Without looking up, Aunt May slapped her niece's hand, earning a 'hey!' from said niece. "Elizabeth Parker, don't you even _think_ about eating one of those tomatoes."

Lizzie couldn't help but be amazed by her aunt's sixth sense. She also wished that she wasn't known for nibbling on tomatoes. When Aunt May turned and walked towards the stove, Lizzie snatched a small one and hid it in her jacket's pocket.

As the older woman passed Peter, she noticed the bruise which had begun to form on his jawline. "Oh, my gosh," Aunt May breathed, shocked by what she'd seen on her nephew's face.

"What's up?" asked Peter, looking away from his aunt once he glanced at her. After he hopped on top of the counter, Peter opened the bottle of apple juice he'd grabbed from the fridge and began to sip it.

"What happened to your face?"

"I'm alright," said Peter, waving his hand at Aunt May. "Just. . . . I fell, skating. It's alright."

Lizzie shrugged her shoulders when Aunt May looked at her, expression asking, 'Is that what _really _happened?'

Aunt May, realizing she wouldn't get anything more from the twins, sighed and moved on with her life.

As if perfectly timed, an old man wearing a pair of brown glasses waddled into the room with a look of concentration on his face, a nasty-looking cardboard box filled with trophies in his hands. When he was about to put it down on the island, Aunt May said, "Ben Parker, don't you even _think _about leaving that filthy box in my kitchen."

"These are my bowling trophies," Lizzie's uncle defended himself, as if the simple statement he'd made was enough to justify his actions.

Aunt May rolled her eyes. "Oh. Well, then by all means, please, leave that filthy box in my kitchen."

Lizzie covered her mouth with her hand to hide the amused grin she now wore. Her aunt and uncle were amazing people, and the relationship they shared was full of happiness, banter, joy, and good humor. Sure, they fought every now and again, but that didn't mean they were horrible together. In fact, they were the best couple Lizzie knew.

"What happened to you?" Uncle Ben asked Peter, having noticed the bruise, too, while he placed his box on the ground.

"Fell off of his skateboard. It was a totally epic wipeout," Lizzie said while she tapped her fingers against the edge of the counter top.

"I thought you didn't see it," said Aunt May, suspicion and confusion in her brown eyes.

"I never said that I didn't hear it."

"I swear, if you're hiding something from me I'll– "

"No. I swear, we're not. Honest."

Aunt May, deciding to leave it at that, shook her head. "Why you kids ride those things, I'll never know."

"Because it's stupid and dangerous," answered Uncle Ben. Looking at his wife, he asked, "Remember when we were stupid and dangerous?"

Aunt May glared at Uncle Ben. "No."

"Trust me, we were," Uncle Ben assured Peter and Lizzie.

After sharing a look with Peter, Lizzie gave her uncle a mischievous grin and asked, "Care to elaborate?"

Before Uncle Ben could say anything, Aunt May beat him to it. "No. And there's nothing to 'elaborate' on."

"You sure about that, Aunt May? I mean, there has to be _something_."

"Trust me. There isn't."

"Hey, where's all the water coming from?" asked Peter, gaze fixed on the tiled floor.

Uncle Ben- feet bare, pants rolled up to his knees- turned and began to pad into the other room. "Follow me. I'll show you," said Uncle Ben without looking over his shoulder.

"You serious?" said Peter, not in the mode to move.

"Yeah, I am."

Knowing that his uncle wouldn't give up asking him to come, the teenager got off of his perch and began the trek downstairs. When Peter had disappeared from sight, Aunt May resumed her task.

Deciding to settle in front of the TV until dinner was ready, Lizzie got up to leave. Before she even stepped into the dining room, Aunt May's voice stopped Lizzie in her tracks. "Before you even _think_ about sitting on that coach, you better return the tomato you stole from me."

Lizzie cursed inside of her head as she reluctantly returned the produce to her aunt's open hand. As she settled down for the next fifteen minutes, Lizzie wistfully thought, _If only I had that tomato. _

~A~T~O~W~A~R~

From where she sat, Lizzie could hear her aunt and uncle arguing about whether or not to hire a plumber to fix whatever the heck had been broken (Lizzie never understood that kind of stuff like Peter did). Instead of listening in, Lizzie attempted to pay attention to the rerun episode of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer _that was playing on the screen. However, all of this was put to a halt when Peter came from downstairs, shoes off and pants rolled just bellow his knees. He held a leather briefcase, eyes fixed on the old thing as if he couldn't believe it actually existed.

After a few moments of silence, Uncle Ben chirped, "I forgot all about that thing. It was your dad's. He asked me to keep it safe for him."

Lizzie, interested, muted the television and joined her brother and uncle.

"He saw it in the window of that leather shop over on 9th Avenue," said Uncle Ben as he placed the plates he held down on the table and took a seat. "He was nineteen. What does a nineteen-year-old kid need with a briefcase?"

"School?" suggested Lizzie, tracing the bag with one of her fingertips.

"That's what backpacks are for, sweetheart," chuckled Uncle Ben. "But, then again, he was the smarter of the two of us." For a split second, the old man's gaze was filled with a certain youth as he remembered the childhood he and his little brother had shared. "Guess who sold it to him?" he asked the brother and sister.

"I don't know, who?" asked Lizzie.

Her uncle's eyes twinkled. "Your mother."

This forced both Peter and Lizzie to look away from their father's belonging.

"That's how they met."

Peter and Lizzie shared a look, the story of how their parents first crossed paths new to them.

"He asked you to keep this safe? Why? There's nothing in here. Have you looked in here? There's nothing here," rambled Peter, confused as to why this less than ordinary leather briefcase was so important to his father.

"Your father was a very secretive man, Peter," said Aunt May, having moved from the door frame she'd been leaning on to stand beside her husband.

"Yeah, I know," said Peter as he continued to shuffle through the briefcase. A few seconds later, Peter stopped when he came across something that had caught his interest. Taking the object out, Peter stared at it, Lizzie doing the same. It was a black and white photo of their father and a man they'd never seen before. The edges of the thin paper were jagged due to having been torn out of a newspaper. "Who's that?" Peter asked, showing the picture to his uncle. "Do you know who that is?"

"It's a guy who worked with your dad, I guess," said Uncle Ben, his face resembling that of a naughty child having been caught by their mother or father.

When Peter did the same with his aunt, she gave him a startled look in response to his question. Having not received the answers he was hoping for, Peter dropped his arm and put the picture back where he'd found it.

"Just take this off of the table, alright?" demanded Aunt May as she closed the briefcase's flap. "We're going to eat. Off. And wash your hands. Now. Lizzie, turn that thing off," Aunt May called over her shoulder as she re-entered the cooking area.

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. Something felt off. She could feel it.

The twins looked at Uncle Ben.

"Go on," he said, dismissing them.

Peter, frustrated with how the situation had turned out, turned and made his way upstairs, his footsteps thudding as he climbed the stairs. Lizzie glanced between her aunt and uncle before doing as they asked, all the while thinking about what they had and hadn't told them. Lizzie didn't know why, but she had a feeling that they knew more than they'd let on.

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**Thoughts? Ideas? Opinions? ****Sorry if the story isn't as original as you expected. Believe me when I say that there will be plenty of original chapters and scenes as the story progresses. **

**One more thing before I go. I've been slowly working on a Tumblr for both OWaR and AToWaR. It's not complete, and I'm still editing what I have done. I promise that once it's finished that I'll make a link.**

**Well, until next time, see you later :)**

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**~Edited 06/25/14~**


	3. The Briefcase

**Hello! Sorry it's been a little longer than I thought it would be. I've been so busy that I didn't have that much time to finish it in one sitting. Sorry, but that's life. ****Now that I think about it, I should probably be working on my inspirational speech which is, like, due tomorrow. I haven't even started it yet. Oops. At least I know what I want to do it on. Actually,_ who_ is a more appropriate word (two, actually): _Samwise Gamgee_. That's right, people. My speech is about a _Lord of the Rings _character. Be jealous of my mind! **

**I would like to apologize in advance for the shortness of this chapter. I promise that the next one will be longer.**

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"You know that they're not telling us everything, right?" said Lizzie from Peter's bed.

"I know," agreed Peter, picking their father's brown briefcase off of his bedroom floor, a curious look in his eyes.

After dinner, the twins went up to Peter's room to talk more about what had happened shortly before their meal. Peter had taken everything he'd found inside out of the briefcase and lined them up in a neat line. For the past half hour, the siblings further examined their father's belongings- which consisted of a train token, a calculator, a laminated ID badge for Oscorp, and a few pens and pencils. At one point, Peter had found the case which held their father's old glasses. When he tried them on, he informed Lizzie, once returning from his private bathroom, that he and their father apparently shared the same prescription.

Lizzie watched her brother unzip the briefcase's zipper. "I just want to know more about our parents, you know? But I feel like instead of Mom and Dad we're learning about strangers."

A barely audible _click_ filled the area. Peter and Lizzie shared a quick glance before he pulled out a dark-manilla folder. Peter got off of his skateboard, closed his open door, and used his homemade, high-tech lock before sitting back down. Once he felt their privacy was well protected, Peter pulled the folder all the way out of the brief case. On the front cover was what looked like a sticker with two crossed Os on it.

"Are you going to open it or what?" asked Lizzie, having grown impatient.

When she stretched her arm out to grab the folder, Peter slapped her hand away. Lizzie drew it back, glare narrowed into slits.

"I'm getting there, I'm getting there," said Peter before opening the file.

On the inside sat a small stack of papers, all of them covered in notes and formulas that Lizzie couldn't even dream of coming up with. Luckily, one of them _at least _had some idea as to what the scribbles meant.

"What's this?"

Or maybe not.

"Zero, zero, decay rate algorithm."

"Any chance you know whatever the heck that means?" asked Lizzie, leaning forward in hopes of getting a better view.

Before Peter could respond, someone knocked on his door, gaining their attention. They shared a look before Peter hid the file in the brief case and called, "Yeah, one sec, one sec." After scattering his father's things, Peter sat in his desk's swivel chair and hit the knob which unlocked the door.

Meanwhile, Lizzie reclined on Peter's bed and bent her knees which allowed her to cross one leg over the other. She placed her arms behind her head, foot moving up and down to a beat of its own making.

"Come in," they called in unison.

Not even a mere second later, Uncle Ben opened the door. "You two okay?" he asked, acknowledging both of the twins.

Lizzie gave a thumbs up while Peter said, "Yeah. What's up?"

When Peter looked at him, Uncle Ben's eyes widened in shock. "Oh, my gosh. You look just like him," said Uncle Ben.

"Who? Peter? Nah. He's too ugly to look like Dad," Lizzie said, earning a glare from Peter. Lizzie stuck her tongue out in response.

"Can I come in?" Uncle Ben asked, amusement twinkling in his gaze.

"Yeah," said Peter while nodding his head.

When their uncle entered, he closed the door behind him. Glancing down at Peter's desk, he noticed a solved Rubrics Cube (Lizzie was still bitter about how Peter had solved it multiple times before she could even solve it once. The jerk). "Listen. I don't have much education. You kids know that," Uncle Ben reminded them as he sat at the head of the bed, inches away from Lizzie's feet. "Heck, I stopped being able to help you with your homework when the two of you were ten.

"What I'm trying to say is. . . . I know it's been rough for you without your mom and dad. And I know we don't talk much about them."

"Yeah, it's alright," Peter said with a shrug as if he didn't care.

"No. It's _not _alight," interrupted Uncle Ben, making his point clear. "I wish I could change it, but I can't." There was a pause before Uncle Ben said, "Curt Connors."

"Huh? Who's that?" wondered Lizzie as she sat upright, her curiosity having been ignited.

"He's the guy in the picture with your dad. They worked together for years and they were close. But after that night, we never saw him again. He never even called. Not once."

"Really? Nothing? Even though they were close and all?" Lizzie asked, eyebrow arched. It befuddled Lizzie how someone who was not only the person you worked with but your _best friend _as well never once gave their condolences to said friend's family after such a great tragedy.

"Go figure." Looking at his nephew, Uncle Ben nodded his head towards Peter's computer. "She's pretty," said Uncle Ben, having referred to the girl, Gwen, displayed on its screen.

It wasn't a secret to Lizzie that her brother had a major crush on her friend (they_ were _twins, after all ).

Peter looked away, slightly embarrassed, as their uncle got up to leave. As he was about to close the door, Peter said, "Uncle Ben?"

"What?"

"You're a pretty great dad, alright?"

"I second that," chirped Lizzie while holding her hand up in the air.

Uncle Ben, both touched and stunned, looked like he was going to cry or shed a few tears. Glancing at the floor, the corner of his lips twitching into a small grin, Uncle Ben thanked them and wished both a good-night.

Once he was gone, Lizzie looked as Peter, a smug smile on her face. "I told you they knew more than they were letting on."

Peter, in reply, rolled his eyes, turned to face his computer, and mumbled, "Shut up."

~A~T~O~W~A~R~

It didn't take them long to find out more about Curt Connors. It wasn't much of a surprise to learn that he was a scientist like their father. The second thing they'd found (the first being the article about the plane crash their parents had suffered thirteen years ago) was the news article with the picture Peter had found earlier that evening. Curt Connors was a one-armed man who, like their father, wished to find the cure to cure all disease and physical handicaps.

From what Lizzie read over Peter's shoulder, she found what they had once dreamed extremely fascinating. She didn't know half of the scientific words and terms used in the story, but she knew enough to know that their ambition was their strength as well as their weakness.

The final website (out of six or seven, Lizzie lost count forever ago) was Dr. Curt Connors' which further explained his goals of his experiments as well as displayed the one thing which caught their eye: The department offered internships. Unfortunately, they were now closed.

"Well, guess we can't get in now," said Lizzie, gaze still locked on the blaring screen.

"Says you."

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. "What are you suggesting, Mr. Parker?" she asked, having already figured out what Peter wanted to accomplish.

From years of experience, Lizzie grew to learn that once Peter set his mind and sight on something he wouldn't give up so easily. She could no longer keep track of all the times her brother found some way to get what he wanted. It was an admirable quality, but it sometimes got annoying as well as on Lizzie's nerves.

Peter, having expected her question, said, "I, ah, um. I'm not sure yet, but I'm going to figure it out."

"So, in other words,"– Lizzie's hands were in a prayer position, giving her the appearance of a deep-thinker– "you're going to improvise."

"Yeah," admitted Peter while rubbing the back of his head, a slightly embarrassed grin framed by his lips. "I guess you could say that."

"Well, good luck with that," Lizzie said, slapping her kneecaps before getting up and heading for the door. "Tell me when your master plan succeeds!"

"Wait! Don't you want to know more about Dr. Connors?" asked Peter, a curious and slightly confused look on his face.

"Well, yeah. But I tend to go for things that have more thought put into them."

"This has thought put into it," defended Peter.

"Oh, yeah? Tell me your genius plan, Pete. If it's freaking brilliant, I'll get down on my knees and say, 'I'm not worthy! I'm not worthy!'"

Peter opened his mouth to say something but then quickly closed it, realizing that whatever he wanted to say wouldn't help his case.

Lizzie gave a light chuckle. "Thought so. Night, Pete. See you tomorrow."

"Night, Liz," Peter called out.

His sister blew a kiss before closing the door and heading to her room for the night.

Once she entered her bedroom and had closed her door, Lizzie walked towards her keyboard, the song she was currently composing lying on the stand where she'd left it the previous evening. Sitting down in front of the instrument, Lizzie turned it on, placed her giant headphones over her ears, and continued writing her music piece.

Piano had always given her solace since she was four years old. In fact, one of the ways Lizzie dealt with her parents' death was taking up lessons, learning how to put notes together on a page, and losing herself in song. The emotions she felt throughout her childhood was passionately put into music. This eventually paid off after many years of lessons. In fact, it was her teacher who encouraged her talent and begged her to stick with piano. Lizzie took his words to heart and the rest, as they say, was history.

Lizzie had become so lost in her music that it wasn't until well after midnight when she fell asleep right where she was.

* * *

**Fin! I hope you liked it :) Oh! And one more thing before I go. The tumblr account I'm working on for my _Spider-Man _stories is almost halfway done. I just have to add a few more things and then I can go back and edit it. I promise I'll post a link on my profile so all you have to do is click it.**

**Well, until next time, see you all later :)**

* * *

**~Edited 06/25/14~**


	4. That's the Weekend for You

**Hello! Sorry that it's been awhile since I last updated. I was so busy that I really didn't have the time or energy to concentrate on this story. You've waited long enough. Here's the next chapter of _A Twist of Webs and Reality_. Enjoy!**

* * *

Working on a Saturday morning usually isn't someone's idea of a weekend well spent. To Lizzie, however, she found it fun and exciting (well, minus the fact that her manager was a complete dick and hard to work with).

For the past three years, Lizzie worked as a part-time employee at _Big Ben's Music Store_ where they sold a variety of music supplies ranging from sheet music to electric guitars. It was a tiny shop, but it had a certain quality that drew people in. Of course, it usually wasn't busy, but it had enough customers to keep the business running for the past twenty-five years or so.

All-in-all, Lizzie liked– no, _enjoyed_– working for _Big Ben's Music Store. _

The owner, Benji, was an elderly man who treated everyone with kindness, equality, and fairness. On top of all that, he taught musical instrument lessons (Lizzie being one of his many pupils).

The beginning of her day consisted of restocking the inventory and assisting Mike, the store's manager, with cleaning out and organizing the storage room (well, Mike technically supervised from afar while Lizzie did so. The douchebag) while Taylor, a co-worker of Lizzie's, worked the cash register. When it was time for the trio's lunch break, Lizzie and Taylor went outdoors to enjoy the day, chatting about their lives and anything else that came to either of their minds.

As the girls discussed a movie they'd recently seen, Mike yelled, "Hurry it up! Get your fat and lazy bums back in here, now!" Like he was one to talk.

At this, Taylor rolled her blue eyes and mumble-whispered to Lizzie, "If he thinks he can do whatever he wants while _we_ do all of the work, he's got another thing coming to him."

"Well, he _is _Benji's _ex_-son-in-law," said Lizzie, voice dripping with irritation.

"Yeah. Keyword: _Ex_."

Lizzie gave a light chuckle before she and Taylor got up and re-entered the store for another lovely six hours of Mike.

~A~T~O~W~A~R~

When the work day was over, Lizzie couldn't leave the store fast enough. After clocking out for the day, Lizzie bid Taylor farewell before making a mad dash for the subway where she boarded the train for Queens. Once the ride was over, Lizzie gathered her things and got off. It didn't take Lizzie more than ten minutes to get home.

Unlike school nights, dinner was usually done by the time Lizzie returned from work. The scent which met her when she entered the house made Lizzie groan. It was meatloaf night, her least favorite meal.

One would think that someone as good of a cook as Aunt May would have the most amazing meatloafs known to man. The was far from the truth. Aunt May's tasted and even looked, on occasion, absolutely disgusting.

_Maybe I can fake an illness, _Lizzie thought, hoping that this would give her an excuse to skip dinner. To be honest, the chicken broth and saltine crackers Aunt May usually gave her when she was sick sounded more appealing. If anything else, she could sneak downstairs later to see what was available if her stomach couldn't handle the starvation she was about to put it through.

Just as Lizzie began to carefully make her way upstairs, Aunt May called out, "Lizzie? Is that you?"

Lizzie inwardly cursed herself for not being quiet enough. "Yeah, Aunt May. It's me."

"Great. Dinner will be ready in a few."

"Actually, Aunt May, I'm kind of feeling a bit ill. I think I'll skip dinner and sleep it off."

Before Lizzie could get away, Aunt May said, "Oh, no. Don't' you _dare _pretend to be sick. I don't believe a lick of it."

"But I'm not-"

"You're eating dinner with us, end of discussion," Aunt May said, voice stern.

"But-"

"End of discussion."

Lizzie bit her bottom lip, titled her head skyward, and asked God why of all people did she have to suffer through her aunt's notorious meat loaf.

"Go on. Get yourself ready. Now."

Lizzie, knowing that she'd lost, readjusted her bag's strap and mumbled under her breath as she made her way to her room.

~A~T~O~W~A~R~

To say that Lizzie was mad with her brother for skipping dinner was an understatement. She was pissed.

Even though it was totally unreasonable, Lizzie felt like he'd known in advance that it was meat loaf night. It wasn't the first time he'd done something like this. But when half-an-hour turned into one, then two, three, four, five, six hours, Lizzie began to worry.

Sitting out on the roof, which was easily accessible from her bedroom window, Lizzie awaited for her brother's return. As Lizzie finished the chapter she was on, she saw Peter jog up to their lawn's tiny walkway. Closing her book, Lizzie took out her earbuds and hissed, "Where have you been?"

Peter, who looked as if he was in a daze, glanced up at his sister. "Lizzie. Hey. Sorry. I'm late. I'm so late. I'm sorry. I lost track of time. I'm unpunctual."

Before Lizzie could say anything else, Peter continued on until he was inside. "Darn you, Pete," growled Lizzie as she dashed toward the stairs.

~A~T~O~W~A~R~

As Lizzie hurried downstairs, she could hear Aunt May's slightly muffled voice: "We've been so worried."

"I know. I'm sorry," Peter apologized. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Peter shouted, "Watch out!" and reached forward with the quickest reflexes Lizzie had ever seen. This sight made Lizzie pause mid-step, foot hovering just above the second to last stair.

Their aunt and uncle wore equally shocked expressions.

"That's a fly, Peter," said Aunt May, confused as well as stunned.

Peter, in response, let the insect go, hand waving in a twitchy manner. Then, after a moment's hesitation, Peter bent forward, free hand resting on his knee. "I'm sorry I kept you guys up. I'm irresponsible. I'm hungry." As he stepped toward the kitchen, he kissed Aunt May's cheek and placed a very broken-in-half skateboard in her hands.

Bringing herself out of the stupor she was in, Lizzie resumed her walk, never stopping until she stood beside her aunt, head titled to the side, eyes squinted as she tried to figure out what was going on with her twin. While Lizzie watched Peter take the saran wrap off of the leftover meat loaf, she couldn't help but wonder what he was going to do. She then felt her eyes widen in shock when Peter took one of the nasty pieces of ketchup covered meat and took a good bite out of it.

"Drinking?" Aunt May quietly asked her husband.

Uncle Ben shook his head. "I don't think so."

Peter, deciding now was the time to give his input, looked at his very curious and extremely concerned family members and said in an awed tone of voice, "This is your meat loaf? This beats _all _other meat loafs."

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. Had she heard him? Since when did he like their aunt's meat loaf? In fact, he hated her meat loaf more than anyone else; he just didn't vocalize it as much as Lizzie did.

"Who _are _you?" she asked, face twisted in disgust and confusion.

"Something's very wrong here," Lizzie heard her aunt whisper.

"Yeah," agreed Uncle Ben. "Nobody likes your meat loaf."

Aunt May gave her husband a look.

Meanwhile, Peter had somehow managed to gather multiple containers filled with food, a look of concentration on his face as he slowly made his way out of the kitchen. As he passed Aunt May, a half-full container of potato salad began to tumble towards the floor. Aunt May reached out to help. Peter caught it in the crock of his arm and said, "I got it." Lizzie watched him for a couple of seconds before following him. She was going to figure out what was up with Peter. Her sleep depended on it.

~A~T~O~W~A~R~

"So, how much food did you steal?" Lizzie asked, joining her twin in his room.

"Enough to eat," said Peter, gaze settling on the tub that held the potato salad. "Mmm. Food."

Peter opened the container and began shoveling it into his mouth. When it was gone, he moved on to the half-pint of Ben and Jerry's he'd taken from the freezer. Realizing that he didn't have a spoon, Peter took another slice of meat loaf and used it as a substitute. Lizzie tried not to gag.

Going up to his pile of food, Lizzie took the box of frozen macaroni and cheese as well as the half empty plate of meat loaf. Peter, having seen this, glanced up at his sister, brown eyes wide.

Up close, Lizzie noticed how wreaked her sibling truly was. His pupils were dilated, his body and hair was soaked in sweat, and his skin looked sickly pale. On top of all that, he looked like a frightened baby deer in headlights. Lizzie couldn't help but feel concerned for him. Reaching out, Lizzie placed her palm against his forehead (it was hot and clammy) before brushing her fingers through his hair. Lizzie frowned. Something was up. He was totally off. If she didn't know any better, she'd say that he was high on something strong.

Lizzie opened her mouth to ask what had really happened, but thought better of it and closed her mouth. Getting down on her knees, Lizzie grabbed his free hand and said, "Please wash your face. And get some sleep, too. Alright?" When he didn't say anything, Lizzie repeated in a firmer tone, "Alright?"

Peter nodded his head so fast that it reminded Lizzie of a bobble head. "Yeah. Yeah, I will."

The corner of Lizzie's lip twitched upwards. She brought her brother's sticky fist to her lips, closed her eyes, and kissed it before getting back onto her feet. "Night, Pete. See you in the morning."

"Yeah. Night, Liz," was Pete's rushed and shaky reply.

Lizzie couldn't help but feel worried for her brother as she closed the door behind her. Hopefully he'll feel better in the morning. _Hopefully._

~A~T~O~W~A~R~

The following day, Lizzie woke up early for her morning run. It was her passion next to her loved ones and piano. It was the only other thing that helped clear Lizzie's mind. Sometimes she'd listen to music while she jogged, but more often than not she'd just enjoy the silence. Lizzie discovered long ago that there was something about the quiet predawn air that made it special.

By the time Lizzie returned, she felt ravenous, hot, and disgusting. Deciding that a clean body sounded more appealing than bagels and orange juice, Lizzie decided to take an ice-cold shower.

Since the bathroom Lizzie used only ran hot water, she decided to sneak into Peter's (she'd done it before. He usually didn't care as long as she locked the doors, kept quiet, and got out on the rare occasion he asked her to).

Upon entering her twin's bathroom, feminine hygiene products in hand, Lizzie found that Peter's bath towels were missing. She was about to grab another one from the linen closet when she noticed Peter's robe was wadded up on the sink.

"What the heck?" Why wasn't it on its hook?

Grabbing the robe, Lizzie soon regretted her decision. A rapid spurt of water came shooting out of nowhere, spraying Lizzie's face and upper body. When she leapt back, she tripped over her feet. Lizzie screamed as she felt herself fall backwards into the tub, the shower curtains wrapped around her like a messy, fabric cocoon. Not a moment later, one of the two doors burst open.

"Lizzie?" Peter hesitantly asked, as if he wasn't sure if it was her or not.

"Leave me alone to die."

* * *

**I'm not going to lie, the last scene made me so happy. How about you? What did you like about this chapter? If there really wasn't anything that stuck out to you, wait until the next chapter :) It'll make some wonder what'll happen next.**


	5. I HATE Debates

**Before we get started, I'd like to say thank you to all who participated in the poll. Seeing your love for this story was so. . . AMAZING. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Spider-Man _or Marvel. (I wish I did, though.)**

* * *

"Alright, everyone. Settle down, settle down," demanded Mr. O'Hara, the government teacher, as he entered the classroom.

Because of the aura the forty-something-year-old man carried, a hush came over the students, sending them to their seats.

Once everyone was quiet, Mr. O'Hara continued speaking. "As you all know, this semester's midterm will soon be upon us, which means that our next project is finally here." Turning around, Mr. O'Hara picked up a piece of chalk and wrote one word in huge, block letters. "Debates."

Lizzie suppressed a groan. She _hated_ debates – mostly because she had to work with someone else.

"I know this isn't everyone's favorite thing to do. Sadly, you'll need to participate in order to earn a grade. And don't think about blowing it off, either. This is worth twenty-five percent of your semester grade." Mr. O'Hara went to his desk, ignoring the dirty looks he was receiving. "I know that many of you have never been a part of a debate. This is why I'll be here to answer any question you may have, concerning the assignment."

Mr. O'Hara then picked up a beaten-up, wooden clip-board that looked like it had seen better days. "Last night, I had my daughter draw your name, side, and topic from a hat. Before you form a revolt," – he said as a few of his students opened their mouths to yell their protests – "do know that this was _not_ rigid in any way, shape, or form."

Even though it wasn't the answer they wanted to hear, they all kept silent. More than half of the room's occupants had slide further down their seats or slouched.

Seeing that they were fine for now, Mr. O'Hara nodded his head before glancing down at the list he held in his hands. "On whether or not we should have gun control laws in America: Maggie and Melissa, you are pro gun control. David and Sarah, you are against it."

Maggie and Melissa, whom were sitting next to each other, shared a high-five. Sarah and David, on the other hand, looked like deer caught in headlights. Lizzie had heard through the grapevine that they had a fling over the summer and had broken it off shortly before school started up again. Despite whether or not the rumors were true, having to prove why there should be no gun constrictions would be no easy task to undertake.

Mr. O'Hara moved on to the next group of people. "On whether or not we should allow gay rights in America: Sallyanne and Paige L., you are pro gay rights. Jesse and John Paul, you are against it."

This went on for another four times until: "On whether or not we should allow abortion in America: Timothy and Carmen, you are pro abortion. Lizzie P. and Flash, you are against it."

_Wait, what?! _Lizzie thought to herself as she felt her body freeze in place.

Had she heard him correctly? He couldn't possibly have put Flash and she together. . . right?

However, one quick look at the buzz-cut boy's tense shoulders was enough confirmation.

Lizzie placed her face in the palm of her hands, rubbing her thumbs in circles across her temples as she felt her brain begin to shut-down. Of all people, why did she have to get stuck with one of the biggest douchebags in school?

When Mr. O'Hara reached the end of the list, he passed out the guidelines for the debates before briefly going over them. Because there was so many groups, a full week's worth of class had been set aside for the big project (about two weeks away from the current date).

For the last seven minutes of class, Mr. O'Hara allowed the students to meet up with their partners to start making plans.

Even though she rather wouldn't, Lizzie put her big girl panties on and went over to the empty desk beside Flash. When she took a seat, Flash glanced at her from beneath his eyelashes.

The two remained silent for a brief moment before Lizzie spoke up. "Look. I get that you'd rather not work with me. Believe me, I know. But the thing is, we're stuck together for the next couple of weeks whether we like it or not. We might as well pretend that we tolerate each other. When we are done with our side of the argument, we can go our separate ways, never to see each other more than we need to." Sticking out a hand, a dark eyebrow raised in a questioning manner, Lizzie said, "Deal?"

Flash, who remained silent as she gave her rant, glanced at her waiting hand before looking down at his desk. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever," he practically mumbled in reply.

Seeing that this was the best she was going to get from him, Lizzie placed her untouched hand on top of her lap.

"I won't be able to meet up with you tonight, but I'm free tomorrow."

"Okay. Whatever works for you, princess."

Lizzie felt her brows knit together in frustration as she fought to contain what little cool she had left. "Do you wanna meet up at your house?"

A brief look of panic came across Flash's gaze. "Uh, no. Can't do it at my place."

"Okay." Knowing that she'd regret what she was about to say, Lizzie suggested, "My house, then?"

"Yeah. That's fine."

"Great."

Taking a piece of loose-leaf from her binder, Lizzie quickly scribbled down her address, home phone, and the time he was to meet her at. After folding it into a small square, Lizzie gave it to Flash. "Call me if something comes up."

When the bell finally rang, it took all of Lizzie's strength not to make a mad dash for her locker. Gathering her things, Lizzie said, "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Yeah. Guess so."

After giving him a small nod, Lizzie turned and made her way towards her next class.

– A – T – O - W - A - R –

"You have got to be kidding me," said Peter when his sister told him the news.

Playing with her hoodie's string, Lizzie said, "'Fraid not, dear twin. If you're going to blame anyone, blame Mr. O'Hara and his blasted kid."

Peter looked at his bedroom ceiling. "Great. Just great." Not long after he finished the sentence, a pillow hit his face.

"At least you don't have to spend time with Flash, or wait for him to finish basketball practice before you can go over your material."

"Touché."

"Ah-huh. Thought so." She flopped back against Peter's bed, the backs of her hands resting on top of its headboard. "Please tell me what you learned from Dr. Connors before I kill someone."

While Lizzie was at work, Peter - who only went after she assured him that it was okay to do so without her – visited their father's old partner.

While there, Peter learned that Dr. Conners and their father had been working on a cross-genetics project that would help millions upon millions of people. However, when Richard and Mary Parker left, the research and results that had been gathered died along with them. Dr. Connors then apologized to Peter for having neglected to be there for the Parkers when they needed him most.

Lizzie released a wistful sigh. "I wish I could have been there," she admitted.

"Yeah. Me, too."

Rolling over so she could face him, Lizzie asked, "How are you feeling today, Pete?"

"Oh, I'm, ah, doing fine, I guess."

"You guess? You either know, or you don't."

Peter rolled his brown eyes. "Okay, Miss Technicality. I _know _that I'm feeling fine."

Lizzie stuck her tongue out at him.

"Know what?"

Lizzie's eyes widened when Peter began to lumber in her direction. Knowing what he was about to do, she tried to get up, but it was too late. Her twin laid on top of her, preventing Lizzie from escaping.

"Hey! Get off of me," she demanded as she attempted to wiggle off of the bed.

Peter rolled off of her until his back hit the wall, wrapping his lanky arms around his twin as he did so, socked feet tangled between her legs.

"Smart aleck," she hissed.

Having been familiar with this gesture for years, Lizzie let him bring her body closer to his chest. "Think we're getting a little too old for this?" she asked as Peter nestled his face into her brown locks.

"Maybe," said Peter with a smile, eyes now closed. "You gonna be alright with the whole Flash thing?"

"Yeah. I think I will. You?"

"Like you said, it's just a couple of weeks."

"Good."

The siblings remained where they were for the following minutes, silent.

"Hey, Pete?" said Lizzie, ruining the quiet they'd previously enjoyed.

"Yeah, Liz?"

"Thanks for being my brother."

"You're welcome. Lizzie?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for being my sister."

"Welcome."

– A – T – O - W - A - R –

Later that very night, Aunt May went to ask Peter if he'd pick up a couple of things from the grocery store on his way home from school tomorrow afternoon.

When she opened his slightly ajar door, she couldn't help but smile at what she saw. There, sprawled across his bed, was Lizzie and Peter, bodies entangled, asleep – just like they'd done when they were children.

Deciding that she could ask him in the morning, Aunt May slowly closed the door, only leaving once she knew it had been shut tight.

\- A - S - M -

It was close to four-thirty when someone rang the doorbell.

Turning the TV off, Lizzie slid out from underneath the blanket that was spread across her lap, and went to answer the door. There, on the other side, was Flash. He had his backpack slung over both shoulders, while his duffel bag hung from one.

Before Lizzie could invite him in, Flash asked, "Parker's not here, is he?"

It took Lizzie a moment to realize that he was referring to Peter.

Raising one of her eyebrows, she said, "No. Why? Is something wrong?"

The teenaged boy glanced at her before staring into the unknown. "It's nothing."

Lizzie had a feeling that something had happened between them recently. Not wanting to get into an argument with her debate partner, she decided to drop it.

Stepping aside, the brunette said, "Come on in."

Once he was indoors, Lizzie closed the door and made her way towards the dinning room. "I was thinking we should work on the debate in my dinning room, since the table has enough elbow room to spare."

However, when she reached the room, she noticed that Flash was still where she'd left him. He was busy looking at something he'd noticed on the table nearest to the front door. She could have sworn that he looked curious, interested in what her home had to offer.

When she cleared her throat, Flash practically jumped out of his skin before joining her. (This reminded Lizzie of a puppy having been caught sniffing around the carpets for a place to pea.) Once he arrived, the two of them took their seats.

"I did a little research last night," Lizzie said as she booted up her laptop. "It's not much, but I think it gives us a good starting point." After typing in her password, she clicked on the bar icon which lead to the website she'd been reading. Turing it so Flash could see it, Lizzie asked, "Did you happen to do any research last night?"

In response, Flash pulled out a more than decent pile of paper. Some of the lines on the front page were highlighted in yellow, blue, and pink ink.

"I did a little."

"A _little_?" said Lizzie as she went through his work. "Flash, this has more than enough information to help us with our argument." And it was true. The sentences, words, and phrases that had been highlighted or circled was one-hundred percent relevant for their debate topic. "You must have stayed up all night looking for this."

"Not really. My, ah, sister's a pro-life activist. Most of it was some of the stuff she found over the last few years."

"And the rest of it?"

"She helped me organize what I found."

Looking at a chart of how many fetuses had been aborted over the last four years, Lizzie said, "Your sister's amazing, Flash."

"Yeah. She is."

Putting the paper down, Lizzie looked her partner in the eyes. "I think we've got a good starting point. We just have to figure out what we want to use." Grabbing her composition notebook and pen and began writing down her thoughts. When she was done, she slide it across the wooden surface. "We can always change it, but I was thinking maybe we could do something like this."

They sat in silence as Lizzie waited for Flash to finish reading what she'd come up with.

"So, what do you think? Is there something you think we should add?"

"Ah, no. This is good."

The way Flash looked made the brunette wonder what was going on with him.

"Really? You're okay with it?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"Because I barely wrote anything down. I wanted to get your opinion on how we should flesh it out."

"Oh." Flash glanced back down at the sheet of paper. "I guess we could talk about the damage it does to the mother's health."

"I already wrote that down."

Flash looked slightly panicked, but only for a moment. "Right. I knew that. Um. . . . How some of the abortion laws contradict each other?"

"That's on there, too."

Now he looked way beyond freaked.

It was then that something popped into the front of her mind. Memories of Flash having a difficult time reading out-loud to the class in their freshman English class, of how after that she'd never seen him with an open textbook. There was even a brief and fuzzy image of a tape recorder on his lap as they listened to a teacher's lecture.

Gathering her courage, Lizzie asked, "Flash. Do you have a learning disability? Are you. . . . ADHD?"

The way he looked away in shame and embarrassment was enough confirmation.

"I'm sorry I – "

"Dyslexia."

_Oh._

That made sense. She just didn't think of the possibility of him having it.

Lizzie could tell how hard it had been for him to admit what he had, that he couldn't read at the same level as his classmates.

The brunette looked back at their findings. "I won't tell anyone, if that's what you're afraid of."

As Lizzie took back her notes and began organizing her thoughts and ideas, she could have sworn she heard him whisper, "Thanks."

Her lip twitched upwards. "You're welcome," she whispered back.

– A – T – O – W – A – R –

Because Aunt May and Uncle Ben were both working that night, Lizzie and Flash ordered out, eating greasy cheese pizza as they worked on their project.

They'd come a long since the beginning of their meet-up.

Now that Lizzie knew of Flash's learning disability, they were able to figure out a way to work together. If Flash had trouble reading something, Lizzie would read it for him and ask him what he thought of it.

Four hours had passed on by before they decided to call it quits for the night.

"I think we've had a fairly productive evening," said Lizzie as she closed her laptop and helped Flash gather his notes.

"Yeah. It was," agreed Flash, taking the pile of paper from Lizzie's hands. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Just then, the front door opened. A couple of seconds later, Uncle Ben came entered the dinning room.

"Hey, Uncle Ben."

"Hello, Lizzie." Noticing Flash, one of Uncle Ben's eyebrows rose, a look of interest and curiosity in his eyes. "Whose this?"

"This is Flash. He and I are doing a debate for government."

No longer in the dark, Uncle Ben smiled as he went to shake hands with the boy. "Hello, son. I'm Lizzie's uncle." Releasing the grip he had on Flash, Uncle Ben said, "I hope the two of you are getting along well."

Flash gave a nod in response. "Yes, sir. We are."

Lizzie couldn't help but notice how different he was with her uncle. He seemed like a more than well-behaved human being. It made her wonder if this was the way he treated his own father figure.

Deciding that she wanted to change the topic, Lizzie said, "Flash and I just finished for the night, actually."

"Did the two of you make good progress?"

The two teens shared a quick look, both agreeing with the answer she was about to give. "Yes. We did."

"Wonderful." Uncle Ben gave Flash a pat on the shoulder. "It was nice meeting you."

"You, too," said the boy.

When Uncle Ben left, Lizzie turned to Flash. "So, now you know who my uncle is." She crossed her arms across her chest. "When do you want to meet up again?"

"How about tomorrow during study hall, in the library?"

For a couple of seconds, Lizzie forgot that they had the same study hall hour.

"Sure. That sounds like a plan."

By the time they finished their discussion, everything that belonged to Flash had been gathered and put away.

"Guess I'll see you tomorrow, then," he said as they made their way towards the front door.

"Yep." She opened the door. "Bye, Flash."

"Bye, Lizzie," he said over his shoulder as he walked outside.

When he made it to the bottom of the porch steps, Lizzie closed the door. As she leaned against it, she couldn't help but admit that working on a debate with one of her brother's enemies wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

**Gasp! ****Flash admitted that he has dyslexia to Lizzie!**

**Why did he tell a girl he hardly knows his biggest secret? What caught his attention when he first entered the Parker household? Why didn't he want Lizzie to come over to his place to work on their debate project? Why was he so formal when he met Uncle Ben? Why didn't Peter tell Lizzie everything that happened when he visited Dr. Connors? And, more importantly, why was Aunt May so chill when she found her niece and nephew spooning? **

**All these questions and more shall be answered as the story progresses. **

**One last thing. For those of you who like to face claim OCs, who do you imagine while reading Lizzie's story? I'd like to hear your thoughts. **


	6. I'm Sorry

**Word of warning: This chapter contains heavy moments that'll crush your feels. (Get your tissues ready, my lovelies.)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Spider-Man_. Any material used in this chapter that isn't original doesn't belong to me. **

* * *

"So, wanna tell me more about this Flash kid?" Uncle Ben asked Lizzie when she joined him in the kitchen.

His niece raised a dark eyebrow. "What's that suppose to mean?" Her eyes widened when it finally dawned on her. "Oh, my. . . . No. Uncle Ben. Gosh, no. I'm not interested in him. We were working on a school project, that's all."

"That's a shame. He seems like a nice kid," said the old man as Lizzie dug through the fridge for something to drink.

She felt her face wrinkle at his statement. Yes, he did seem nice (defiantly not as bad as he usually was), even well-mannered. However, her uncle didn't know what he was like at school.

When Lizzie turned around, she noticed the knowing look in his gaze, like he knew there was something up.

Lizzie glared at her uncle. "_Seriously_? After I told you all of _that_?"

"I'm your uncle. It's my job to make you squirm."

"I thought that was Peter's?"

"Well, him, too."

"Gee, thanks," she sarcastically said as she closed the fridge.

Lizzie unscrewed the cap of her soda, taking a sip from it once she was sitting on top of the counter. Uncle Ben leaned against the wall he was standing in front of.

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you don't want to be in a relationship."

Uncle Ben's statement made Lizzie groan in frustration.

"Oh. My. Gosh. Uncle Ben, how many times do I have to – "

"Oh, don't worry. This has nothing to do with Flash."

"Great. Thanks for the reassurance." Lizzie took another sip of her drink, eyes narrowed into slits as her mind fumed. "And you're right. I don't want to date anyone. _Especially _when I have my studies and audition to Juilliard to worry about."

At the mention of the prestigious school, Uncle Ben's gaze lit up like lights on a Christmas tree. "Speaking of which, how's your preparation for it coming?"

"Good. Still needs a little work, but I think I'll be fine by the time the big day arrives."

For as long as Lizzie could remember, her dream was to become a professional pianist.

When she was thirteen, someone had come up to her after one of her recitals and told her that she should consider going to Juilliard. From that moment on, Lizzie learned everything she could about the school. When it was time for her to decide what to do after graduation, she knew that she wanted to be a piano major at Julliard.

In just a few short weeks, she would be doing a live audition in front of some of the best musicians in the world. She was lucky that they thought her pre-screening submission was good enough to land her an audition.

What made her nervous more than anything was the fact that only eight percent of those who apply made it in.

If it hadn't been for her family and Gwen, Lizzie would have lost it months ago. (She was thankful for people who loved and supported her dreams just as much as she did.)

"I can't wait to see your acceptance letter," said Uncle Ben, bringing Lizzie back to reality.

"If I end up getting one, you'll be the first to know." Looking down at her drink, Lizzie thought of something. "Would you like to hear one of the songs I'll be playing?"

Uncle Ben smiled. "Sure."

"Great." Getting down from her perch, Lizzie added, "I want you to be honest with me when I'm done playing. If I want to get in, I need to prove that I have what it takes to be one of their students."

"Of course," he said, chuckling at how serious she looked and sound.

Ignoring this, she lead the way into the living room. Sitting down on her aunt's piano bench, Lizzie waited for her uncle to sit down on the couch. When she saw that he was settled down, Lizzie positioned her hands on the yellowed keys. Schubert's _Wanderer Fantasie_, D. 760 soon filled the living room.

From the moment she hit the first note, Lizzie instantly became lost in the song, letting all her emotions and passion flow from her like a river. For a brief moment in time, Lizzie was the only person in existence.

Once the song was over, Lizzie felt her buzz begin to ebb away.

The sound of clapping brought her back down to Earth. Turning around, Lizzie found a beaming Uncle Ben. There was a look of pride about him that made the young woman blush.

"It. . . it still has some work to be done," she stumble out.

Uncle Ben got up from his seat. He then stood in front of Lizzie, got down on his knees, and placed both of his warm, calloused hands on top of her shoulders. "I am so _proud_ of you, Lizzie. We all are."

Lizzie knew he was referring to the rest of her family, too – living and deceased.

A tear slid down her cheek, a larger-than-life grin framed behind her chapped lips. "Thank you," she whispered, soft as a feather.

The moment was soon put to an end when the front door opened.

Aunt May stood only feet away from her husband and niece, a look of relief upon her beautiful face.

"Where's Peter?" asked Uncle Ben.

"Huh?"

"Peter. He was suppose to pick you up from work, remember?"

Aunt May's face fell. This was enough of an answer for Uncle Ben.

"Lizzie. Go to your room.

"But – "

"_Now_."

Looking at her aunt for help, she saw her nod in agreement.

Not in the mood for an argument, Lizzie did as she was told.

– A – T – O – W – A – R –

About an hour later, Lizzie heard shouting coming from below. (From the limited information she'd gathered, Peter had come home later than he'd promised.) Although tempted to see what the commotion was all about, Lizzie remained in her room. It was difficult for her to focus on her English notes - especially when the sound of glass breaking echoed throughout the house.

Sometime later, someone knocked on her door.

"Lizzie. It's me," said Aunt May's an unusually quiet voice. "May I come in?"

"Yeah."

Aunt May, who was now in her nightwear, entered the room. "I'm sorry that we made you stay up here while we sorted things out."

"It's okay. I understand."

"You're curious, aren't you?"

"Very." Lizzie readjusted her position on her bed so her aunt could join her.

Seeing this, Aunt May joined Lizzie. Looking at her surroundings, a nostalgic smile spread across her lips. "I can't believe we haven't painted your room since you moved in with us."

"I like purple, though," said Lizzie, defending her choice of wall art as she laid her head on top of her aunt's lap. "_And_ my stuffed animals."

"When will you let them go?"

"Never. They make me happy."

"Why do you have them piled in the corner, then?" questioned Aunt May, eyebrow raised.

"'Cause I like to lay on them while I read or take a nap."

Aunt May released a sigh. "I can't believe how much you've grown," she confessed, running her fingers through Lizzie's hair.

"Yeah. Me, too," agreed the brunette.

A good amount of silence passed on by before one of them broke it.

"Your uncle and Peter got into a fight."

"I know."

"Peter left," added Aunt May. "Uncle Ben went looking for him almost a half hour ago."

Now that Lizzie didn't know.

Shifting her eyes so she could see her aunt, Lizzie asked in a quiet tone, "Will they be okay?"

"I hope so. Peter. . . he just needs some time to cool off, that's all."

"And Uncle Ben?"

Aunt May met Lizzie's worried gaze. "He's just concerned about your brother. I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."

Seeing that her aunt was more concerned than she was letting on, Lizzie felt the need to say, "Do you want me to stay up with you until they come back?"

The older woman shook her head. "No, sweetheart. You don't have to do that. Besides, you have school tomorrow. I don't want you to lose sleep because of me."

"It's not just that," said Lizzie. "I want to wait up for them, too."

"Well. . . if that's what you want to do. . . ."

And that's exactly what she did. But when one hour turned to two, then three, then four, Lizzie felt her eyelids become heavy. Despite all her effort, she eventually lost the fight.

She sank into a dreamless sleep.

– A – T – O – W – A – R –

Something awoke Lizzie from her sleep. When she opened her eyes, she noticed blue and red lights flashing across her walls.

A moment later, her sluggish mind was able to register the absence of her aunt's warm lap. The spot that she'd previously occupied was surprisingly cold, like all the joy in the world had been sucked away by a terrifying monster.

Thinking nothing of it, Lizzie prepared to go back to sleep. . . . But that was soon put to an abrupt end.

The sound of a woman screaming from down below filled her with curiosity. She got up, more than ready to see what was going on.

As she carefully made her way down the steps, Lizzie couldn't help but notice how off everything felt.

When Lizzie was halfway down the partially covered steps, she couldn't help but notice how off everything felt.

There were cops standing inside of her house. Aunt May was bent over - hands over her eyes, body moving up and down as she cried - while Peter held her in his arms, expression blank.

There was a burly cop who had a somber look on his face as he talked to her in a hushed tone.

"What's. . . going on?" she asked no one in particular.

At the sound of her voice, everyone looked in her direction. She noticed that most of the room's occupants had pity and sympathy swimming within the depths of their eyes.

The man who'd been talking with her relatives, however, had a look that read, 'How am I going to tell the poor kid?'

Confused, Lizzie looked at her surroundings, eventually noticing that someone important was missing from the crowd.

"Where's my uncle?"

And that's when it hit her. Something bad had happened to him while he was out looking for Peter.

Terrified, she looked at the lead cop. "What happened? Is he. . . ." Lizzie couldn't finish the sentence.

A heavy moment of silence hovered in the air, all unsure of how to respond to her questions.

Seeing the desperate look in her brown gaze, the lead officer took a small step forward. "Miss," he said, unsure of what he should say next. "It's you're uncle. . . . He's been murdered."

\- A - T - O - W - A - R -

Everyone was staring. Lizzie could tell by the holes her classmates bore into her back, the way they made way for both she and her twin.

Lizzie couldn't speak for her brother, but the way the others reacted made her feel sick to her stomach.

She didn't know how she'd managed to roll out of bed. Everything had been a blur. . . . Well, everything expect last night.

After she rubbed her red, swollen gaze with the sleeve of her sweater, Lizzie spun her locker combination. She robotically opened it, her mind elsewhere.

Even though the siblings usually exchanged words before parting for first hour, they remained silent.

It seemed as if an unspoken agreement had passed between them to mourn together in silence, to speak as little as possible. Both knew that whenever they were ready, they'd talk about how they felt. But for now, they were fine with their current state of mind.

As Peter and Lizzie prepared for class, a familiar voice called out, "Hey, Parker."

Neither of them needed to look over their shoulders to see who'd spoken.

"Not today, Flash," said Peter, making it clear that he wanted to be left alone.

"Hey, come on, man. I just want to talk," he calmly said as he placed a hand on top of Peter's shoulder.

Before anyone could bat an eye, the boy Flash was trying to speak to turned around, gripped his hoddie between his fists, and slammed him against the lockers on his left.

As their peers gasped, Flash looked at Peter with shock, his feet hovering just above the ground.

Lizzie, who'd been in pure zombie mode, jerked her head up in the boys' direction. "Peter!" she warned, ready to grab his upper arm in order to get him to let go. However, she stopped short when she saw the warning glance Flash sent her, telling her that he needed to do this without anyone's help.

Realizing that he was right, Lizzie reluctantly placed her outstretched hand back by her side, keeping her gaze fixed on the walking time bomb known as her brother.

Seeing that Lizzie understood his message, Flash looked back at Peter whose face was contorted with anger and frustration.

"It feels better, right?" said Flash, eyes locked with Peter's. Lowering his tone of voice, he continued on. "Look. Your uncle died. I'm sorry. I get it. I'm sorry."

As he finished this, Peter placed him back on the floor, face practically buried into his arm, his grip now lose.

"Okay?" Flash asked.

Lizzie watched her brother grab his backpack from beside her feet, slam his locker door shut, turned, and swiftly walked away.

"Lizzie?"

She looked up at the one who said her name from beneath her eyelashes. There was a look of sincerity in his eyes. It was then that she knew he meant every single word that he said to Peter. This made the pain she felt slightly less suffocating. However, when he said, "I'm sorry," she lost all control she thought she had.

A strangled sob escaped her tightened throat she threw her arms around the classmate who'd tormented her sibling since freshman year.

Even though taken-aback at first by her actions, Flash eventually wrapped his arms around her trembling body as her silent tears soaked his shirt.

* * *

**Pain. . . . So much pain. (Help! I've fallen and I can't get up.)**

**I almost added a funeral scene, but I thought that their was enough dark and depressing scenes for this chapter.**

**To answer some of your questions**

**(1) I know that Lizzie hasn't been bitten by a spider. There is a reason for this. You will find out why as the story progresses. **

**(2) I don't know if she'll end up with Harry. . . . Or do I (*wink*)? **

**(3) Keep in mind that there are at least two unwritten films in the franchise. Because I'm not one of the writers, I do not know what will happen. I have plans and a few plots that I have planned, but that could all change very soon.**

**and**

**(4) Lizzie's face claims are Alexis Bledel [Original] and Leighton Meester [AU]. Reason? Because they are extremely close or dead-on to how I imagine Lizzie in each universe. Plus, each actress looks like they could be their respective Peters' sister.**

**Thanks for the love and support,**

**Cloudcity'sBookworm **

**P.S. If you don't know who either of the face claims are, check out my profile. I have links that'll lead you to pictures I thought looked closest to AU and Original Lizzie.**


	7. Two Weeks Later

**I'm going to be honest. I need a break, for I am sick and tired of reading the million page long chapter for World Religions class. That, and the fact that I've basically studied all afternoon and watched my furry niece before I had to go to class. Luckily, I don't have to stress as much about getting my studies way beyond done tonight because my PSY professor cancelled tomorrow's lesson. . . . Keep her daughter in your thoughts, guys. She's feeling a bit under the weather (sad face). **

**I have been informed by a couple of you that there's been some confusion regarding a "missing" chapter. Do not fear. It was just an A/N which I took down minutes after posting it.**

**Disclaimer: _Spider-Man _isn't mine. Just Lizzie and any characters and ideas that are not cannon.**

* * *

"How's Peter holing up?" Gwen asked.

Lizzie, who was working on an essay for her Spanish IV class, said without looking up, "You mean other than the fact that he's been avoiding every one since our uncle died? I'd say he's doing pretty good, for someone who watched a person they loved die in front of them."

Gwen frowned, concern etched onto her pretty face.

It had been weeks since Uncle Ben's funeral.

Friends and family had paid their respects during the wake as the remaining Parkers stood near the closed casket. While Aunt May was able to put on a brave face as she thanked people for their kind words, the twins remained silent - both wearing an identical blank expression.

Unlike her brother, Lizzie was able to choke out words of thanks whenever someone shook her hand.

A majority of those who'd attended were people she hadn't seen in years - decades, for some.

The only one's who appearances she'd cared about were a couple of her favorite teachers and the Stacy family. Seeing Gwen's familiar face made the pain she was suffering a little more bearable.

During the ceremony, Lizzie sat as near to Peter as she could without suffocating him. Despite the fact that he'd been shutting everyone out lately, he let his sister hold his hand as they listened to a pastor they'd never met before that day speak for a majority of the service.

Ever since then, Lizzie and Gwen were practically attached at the hip. Whenever the friends weren't busy with school or work, they'd spend time at either Gwen's Manhattan apartment or Lizzie's home in Queens.

"And you?" said Gwen. She bit her bottom lip, hoping for a positive answer.

"I'm actually doing fine, all things considering."

What the blonde said next surprised the brunette. "Does Flash happen to have anything to do with it?"

Startled, Lizzie looked away from her work for the first time since arriving at Gwen's place. "Huh?"

"Please. I can tell how comfortable you've become around each other over the past couple of weeks."

It was true. Since the day Flash held her while she cried, they seemed to have an easier relationship. Whenever they got together to work on their debate, they'd end up talking about practically anything. Lizzie had gotten to know Flash, as he did her.

Not only did their relationship improve, but it seemed like Flash was moving on from the bully phase he'd been notoriously known for over the past four years. (To be honest, it was nice knowing that he'd stopped bothering her brother.)

Seeing the look on her face, Gwen asked another question. "Are the two of you friends?"

Fixing her eyes on her best friend since middle school, Lizzie gave her honest answer. "Yeah. I guess we are."

And with that, the two returned to their assignments, only stopping when Mrs. Stacy announced that dinner was ready.

– A – T – O – W – A – R –

After days of preparation, Flash and Lizzie's assigned day finally arrived.

To Lizzie, it felt a bit ridiculous to argue over something for a grade. However, if she wanted to pass the class with an A, she needed to do this project.

Thoughts of the candy bar she had stashed away in her room, her favorite Hello Kitty pajama bottoms, binge watching _My Fair Wedding_ on Netflix motivated her to get the job done as best as humanly possible.

As she grabbed her things from her locker for government, she felt someone grab ahold of her shoulders while they exclaimed, "Lizzie!"

Lizzie let out a squeal as she jumped out of her skin. "Flash! You jerk!" she exclaimed while playfully punching his upper arm. "You know, you're going to get hurt if you keep doing that," she warned as she grabbed the chart she'd made and closed her locker's door.

Flash shrugged his shoulders, as if to say, 'so what?'

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "Ever heard of what goes around comes around?"

"Judging by the tone of your voice, I'd say that's a rhetorical question."

"Wow. What was your first clue?"

Lizzie gave him a mischievous grin.

"What's that look for?" he asked, afraid of the answer she had.

"Oh, just thinking about how I could swamp out my rebuttals for your introduction."

At this, Flash's eyes widened. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me."

Before he could say anything else, she began walking down the hallway, picking up the pace whenever he began closing in on her.

"Please. Don't switch. I worked for days on it," he begged as they took their seats.

Seeing the desperation on his face made Lizzie feel a twinge of guilt. He was so nervous that he didn't seem like he'd caught on to the playfulness in her tone.

"Well, since you said please."

Flash looked like he'd been relieved of a heavy burden. "Thanks."

"You know I wouldn't do it. Change up our arguments. The intro you came up with is absolutely brilliant."

"Really? You think so?" he asked, a questioning look in his eyes.

She gave him a small smile. "Really."

When Lizzie looked down at the note cards she had prepared, the bell rang. Class was now in session.

– T – R – O – P –

To say that they did good would be an understatement. They did beyond amazing.

As predicted, Flash's opening speech as to why abortion should be made illegal was so convincing, so well detailed, that it made his classmates, and teacher, look at him in a new light.

Lizzie couldn't help but feel proud of her partner.

He looked so confident, so sure of himself, so passionate that it totally worked in his favor.

When Timothy gave his team's introduction, he didn't seem as into it or sure of himself. Of course, they used the part of the argument where the woman's rights should be the main priority, not the unwanted fetus'.

It wasn't as good as Flash's, but Lizzie was able to give a strong and well detailed and informative rebuttal more than once.

Once their debate was over, the four students returned to their desks.

Leaning forward so she was near Flash's ear, Lizzie quietly said, "Told you it was brilliant."

A smile came across Flash, gaze fixed on his hands.

– T – R – O – P –

The sound of the backdoor opening caught Lizzie's attention.

Looking away from the novel she was reading, Lizzie watched as her brother quietly snuck in, head down, hoodie up. Closing her book, she watched as Peter went to the fridge, opened it, and leaned inside.

"You didn't have to wait up for me, you know?" he said, patting his thigh with the hand that wasn't on top of the fridge's door.

"Ah, yeah I did," she said, now standing in the doorway, arms crossed, fingers tapping a rhythmic beat against her arm. "Where were you?"

"I was out."

"Did you happen to buy the eggs Aunt May needs?"

Peter froze. "Nope. Forgot the eggs," he sang as he closed the fridge. He spun around. "I'll go get them now," he said in a rush.

"Oh, no you don't." Lizzie dashed forward, standing between him and the exit. "Do you have any idea what I had to do to cover for you? I told our aunt, who stayed up despite the fact that she'd just gotten off shift and looked like she was about to drop dead, that you were studying at your lab partner's house. And don't get me started on. . . ." Lizzie trailed off when she noticed that something was off with Peter.

As she rambled about how frustrated she felt towards him, he'd gone over to the sink where he was now bent over, weight resting in his hands. But it wasn't that that made Lizzie feel like something was wrong. It was the fact that he wouldn't let her look at his face.

Suspicious, Lizzie asked, "Peter. Why won't you look at me?" When he didn't respond, she took a step towards him. "Peter. Look at me. _Please. Look_ at me."

Knowing that she wouldn't leave him alone until he did what she asked, Peter roughly took off his hood. He then turned so his sister could see him, gaze fixed on the ground in shame.

What Lizzie saw made her gasp in shock. His face was filthy and covered in bruises and cuts. A black eye was beginning to form on the right side of his face.

"Peter," she whispered softly. "Who did this to you?"

"Please go to sleep, Lizzie," he weakly begged.

"What?! No."

Her brother brought his hands together and shook them with each word he said. "Liz. Please, please, please, _please_ go to bed."

"No," Lizzie said firmly, giving him a stubborn look.

Going to the freezer, she gabbed a bag of frozen peas before taking the dishcloth that hung on the side of the fridge. She wrapped it around the cold bag as she walked over to Peter. She then gently placed it on top of his black eye, holding it to make sure it stayed in place.

Peter placed his large hand on top of hers, sight fixed on anything but her.

"Why won't you talk to me anymore?" she asked after a moment of silence, hurt evident in her voice. "You've barely spoken to or looked at me since the night Uncle Ben. . . ." Lizzie swallowed the lump rising in her throat. "If it wasn't for Gwen. . . or Flash. . . I would have gone completely insane with grief." A single tear rolled down her cheek. "I feel so alone without you, Peter. I. . . I know you want some time alone, but I'm done. I don't want to hold my feelings in anymore. I need. . . . I need my big brother."

And that's when she lost it.

Lizzie couldn't hold back the warm and messy tears that began to flow like a harsh river.

Peter wrapped his arms around her before leaning his forehead on top of her head.

"We. . . use to. . . tell each other. . . everything. . . . When did we. . . stop?" Lizzie asked around hitched breaths.

She felt her twin's body tense. Before she knew it, Peter had gently pulled away from her, leaving Lizzie alone with a bag of peas in her hand.

\- A - T - O - W - A - R -

When Lizzie awoke for school the following morning, she heard someone knock on her door.

"Come in," she called as she searched her closest for an outfit to wear.

"Hey."

Glancing over her shoulder, Lizzie saw her brother standing near the door. She focused on her wardrobe again. "Hey."

Although she knew she shouldn't be, Lizzie was mad at the way her brother had been acting lately (especially last night). She had opened up and shared how she'd been feeling lately, and he brushed her off like she didn't matter.

She hated being angry at Peter.

"I, uh, just thought that I should apologize for last night."

"Really?" said Lizzie, holding a piece of one of her dresses in her palm. "Interesting."

She knew that her sibling could see right through her. (Aside from Aunt May, he knew her best.) Stepping further in, Peter continued speaking. "I know that you're mad. And I deserve it. I know I do. But I don't. . . I don't want us to drift apart. I should have been there for you. I should have talked to you about how you felt. . . . How _I _felt. I'm sorry."

Lizzie had stopped looking at her clothes as he said this, head slightly turned in his direction.

When Lizzie didn't say anything in response, Peter gave a slight laugh, as if to say, 'I knew it.'

As he turned to leave, Lizzie said, "Peter." She went up to and embraced him, burying her face within his shirt. "I'm sorry, too."

\- A - T - O - W - A - R -

"You seem happier today," said Gwen as they sat at their usual place for lunch.

Lizzie looked away from her disgusting cafeteria food. "What makes you say that?" she wondered aloud.

"Well," - Gwen twirled some spaghetti around her plastic fork - "it's just that you look like you're pretty much back to your old self."

"I didn't know I _had_ an old self."

The blonde gave a small smile. "You just keep proving my point." After taking a sip of her drink, Gwen asked, "Did something happen since yesterday?"

"Well. . . . Yeah, actually. Something did," admitted Lizzie, pulling her hair up into a messy bun.

She noticed the twinkle in Gwen's eyes at this statement. "Want to tell me what got you back on track?"

"Oh, nothing major. Peter and I are beginning to talk to each other again without one of us turning the other way before the other can speak."

"Lizzie. That's more than 'nothing major.' That's absolutely fantastic. I was hoping the two of you would be on speaking terms again."

The brunette felt a shy smile begin to form on her face. "Was it that obvious?"

"The whole school noticed. So, yeah. It kind of was."

Now she felt down-right embarrassed. However, she quickly got over it when Gwen said, "Can I ask you a question?"

"You already did."

Gwen glared at her. "You know what I meant."

Lizzie nodded her head. "Okay, then. Shoot."

"I was thinking about inviting Peter over to my place for dinner tonight. Do you think he'd say yes?"

A sly, knowing smile formed behind Lizzie's lips. She knew that if Peter could hear this, he'd jump as high as far as the moon. "Of course he'd say yes. He'd be dumb not to."

"Really? You don't think it's weird or anything like that?"

"No, not at all." Lizzie finished off the last of her meal. "Are you going to ask him during the passing period?"

"Yes. I am."

Before either of them could continue their conversation, the bell rang, signaling the end of the hour.

"Well, I guess I'll talk to you later, then," said Lizzie.

After the friends bid good-bye - and Lizzie had gotten rid of her trey - Flash came up to her.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," she said in response. "What's up?"

"Nothing, actually. I just wanted to ask you something."

"Sure. What is it?"

"I, ah. I was wondering if maybe you'd like to, ah, hang out tonight?" When Lizzie looked at him curiously, he stumbled out, "I mean, if you want to. You don't have to. I was just free this evening and wanted to know if you wanted to do something."

"Sure. I'd love to."

Flash looked her way, surprised. "Really?"

"Really," confirmed Lizzie with a smile.

"Great."

"What would you like to do?"

"Huh?" asked Flash, confused.

"Tonight. Where would you like to go tonight?"

"Oh. Yeah, right. . . . "

When he still hadn't given her an answer, Lizzie suggested, "How about dinner? There's this deli in Manhattan that's really good. It doesn't cost that much, either."

"Yeah. That sounds great. Guess I'll see you then."

"Wait!" she said as he began to turn. "Is six o'clock okay with you?"

"Six. . . . Yeah. Yeah, that works."

"Great. Hold on a second." After finding a spare pen hidden within her purse, Lizzie took the notebook she had out and quickly scribbled down the name and address of the deli before folding it into a square and handing it to Flash. She almost said that his sister could read it to him if he had a hard time reading it, but decided that it would be unimaginably rude to say. "See you tonight," she said before she turned and left the outdoor cafeteria.

* * *

**I know this chapter was kind of slow. I basically used it as a filler chapter. Do not worry, things will begin to pick up again in either chapter eight or nine. Plus, I thought Gwen needed to make another appearance. (It's been ever so long since we've seen her and Lizzie interact with each other.)**

**Okay, a couple of things have been bothering me lately. One of which is the fact that we have to wait until twenty-eighteen for ASM 3 to come out (ah, can I get a HECK no!). The other is my shoulder. For some reason, it keeps tingling at the most random moments (mostly during the evening). I think I might have screwed up a nerve (it's like my nose all over again. . . but worse *shiver*). **

**Once I'm done writing the second part of this story, I'm going to write an alternate ending for it. The idea came to my mind the other day and has stuck with me ever since. However, because of the way I want this fic to go, I can't use it. (You're really going to hate and love me once you read it. How's that possible? Well, you're going to have to wait and see.)**

**One last thing before I leave you. I found this story very recently called _Behind the Hero _by DreamonAlina. If you like romance/fluff, OFCs, Andrew Garfield, adorable/dorky Peter Parker, angst, OCs getting sucked into alternate realities, the ASM franchise, and Eddie Murphy then this is probably for you. I actually pulled an all-nighter just so could finish it. (Do I regret doing so? No. Would I do it again anytime soon? Probably not.)**

**Well, until next time, see you later :)**


	8. Can You Keep a Secret?

**Boom! Here's the next chapter. Things are beginning to pick up again. However, it's going to slow down a little bit in chapter nine before picking back up again in chapter ten. **

**I'm sorry it took some time, guys. I just wanted this chapter to be as close to perfect as it could possibly get. Trust me when I say you're going to enjoy this one. . . . Or maybe you'll end up hating me.**

**Disclaimer: You know, I'm kind of done with theses things. You all know I don't own _Spider-Man_, so I feel like this is a little redundant.**

* * *

"What happened to the outfit you were wearing earlier?" asked Peter when Lizzie made her way downstairs.

"You know I'm basically wearing the same thing, right?"

Peter rapidly shook his head, like a wet dog trying to dry its fur. "No. You were wearing a T-shirt. Now you're wearing – "

"A long sleeved shirt _and _a jacket?" interrupted Lizzie.

Honestly. Men. Tell them that you're going out with a guy _friend _and they go crazy.

Sometimes, it was nice – refreshing, even – to know that she had a protective older brother, but other times it was extremely frustrating.

"We're just going out for dinner. That's it."

Peter, who felt it wise to think about his following words, rubbed the back of his head with his hand. "You sure this isn't a date, 'cause it sure sounds like one."

_Great. Now he sounds like Gwen_, Lizzie thought as she made sure she had enough money in her wallet.

Turning around, Lizzie held the small pile of cash at eye-level so he could see what she had. "Peter. Do you honestly think I'd be bringing money with if this was a date?" Putting it back where it belonged, she said, "Honestly, Pete. You make it sound like I'm about to run off and elope with a questionable character I'd just met."

"Wait. Are you?"

Lizzie playfully punched his chest. "Shut up," she laughed.

Peter couldn't help but join her.

"Besides, _you're _one to talk, Mr. I'm Going to Have Dinner with the Girl of my Dreams and Her Family."

Peter blushed at this, causing Lizzie to smirk in victory.

"Oh, look that. I made him blush."

As Lizzie slung her purse across her shoulders, Peter shot her a look. "You're never going to let me forget this, are you?"

She smiled. "Never." Walking towards the front door, Lizzie called over her shoulder, "Have fun!"

"Yeah. You, too," he said, a hint of reluctance in his voice.

– A – T – O – W – A – R –

When Lizzie finally made it to Manhattan, she couldn't help but admire the atmosphere. Yes, it was busy with activity, but she didn't mind. It was the world she grew up in, the one she knew and loved.

It didn't take long for her to find Barton's Deli, the place she was to meet Flash. When she opened the door, the familiar ding of the bells that hung above filled the near-empty eating joint.

An middle-aged Jewish man, who stood behind the counter, noticed Lizzie's arrival. His dark brown eyes brightened upon seeing her, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. "Lizzie! So good to see you."

"You, too, Elijah."

Being a near-regular, she and a good number of the employees had become some-what friends. They even knew her order like the back of their hands (something that she really appreciated – it made her feel like they valued her as a customer).

"The usual, yes?" he asked, his dark and well-trimmed beard emphasizing his question.

"I'm actually waiting for someone."

"Oh. You are, are you? Alright." He brought his gloved hands together. "We shall wait, then."

Just as Lizzie leaned against the wall, Elijah's gaze drifted back outdoors. "Is that him?"

The brunette turned around just as Flash entered the building.

"Hey," she greeted as he joined her.

"Hey," he said in response.

"Did you find it okay?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. I did."

Lizzie nodded her head. "Good." She flicked her head towards the counter, silently telling him to follow her. "I hope you like kosher," she said as they stood in front of Elijah.

The older man's gaze flicked between the two, a certain curiosity within them that did not go unnoticed by Lizzie.

Wanting to move along, Lizzie said, "The usual for me, please." She looked at Flash. "See anything you like?"

Flash, who was looking at the hanging red and white menus, admitted that he wasn't quite so sure on what to get.

"You should try the corned beef sandwich. It's the best in the state," she recommended. She could see that he seemed a little unsure. "Or," she added, "you could get the turkey on wheat. It's one of my favorites."

"Then why do you have a usual?" asked Flash, confused.

She gave a short and amused laugh. "Well, I can't exactly have a usual if I hadn't tried more than one thing first."

"Right." He switched his sight back on Elijah. "The turkey, please."

"Ah. What a gentleman. You used the magic word."

Flash nudged her shoulder. She nudged back.

While Elijah worked on the first order, Lizzie and Flash slid down to the cash register. Her eyes were glued to the sandwich making process, entranced like a cat with a toy mouse hanging from a stick. When Elijah had finished, he wrapped it in wax paper, diagonally cut the sandwich in half. He then placed it onto a white, plastic plate before adding an apple, a chocolate chip cookie, and a medium sized Styrofoam cup filled to the brim with lemonade and ice.

She took out a ten dollar bill and give it to Elijah. After ringing up the register, he gave returned to her two bucks and seventy-four cents.

He then went to work on the second with practiced ease. When he finished it, he placed it onto another plastic plate and asked what Flash wanted for his side, dessert, and drink. ("Um. . . . Chips, brownie, and a Dr. Pepper.")

Once Flash's food had been paid for, the friends went in search of a table. It didn't take long to find one. They slid onto their own red bench seats before digging in.

As she unwrapped one of the sandwich halves, she watched as Flash did the same and took a bite of his order.

"So, what do you think?" she asked after he swallowed.

"It's actually pretty good," he admitted. He took a bigger bite. "You were right about this place having great food."

"Of course I was right. I'm always right."

Flash rolled her eyes. "Right. _Sure_."

Lizzie lightly kicked his leg. "You better watch what you say, bub," she said in a serious tone. The laughter dancing in her eyes, however, gave her away.

Flash chuckled. "Well, since you put it that way, I will."

"Good."

"So, how do you know the guy behind the counter?" he asked after a few minutes of silence. (He knew that Lizzie preferred to remain mostly quiet as she ate.)

"Who, Elijah? I've eaten here at least once a week since sophomore year. They've seen me so much that they know my eating habits. . . . Well, my eating habits _here,_ technically." She took a sip of her drink. Lizzie rubbed her tongue against the roof of her mouth to get rid of the tartness of the lemonade. "He's the owner, Mr. Elijah Barton. He's run this place for about fifteen, going on sixteen, years now."

"Wow. That's actually kind of cool."

"He likes to think so," she said with a shrug of her shoulders. "But, yeah. It really is."

"Well, yeah. But that's not what I meant. I meant that it's cool that you know a lot about this place."

Lizzie gave a small smile. "Like I said, I've been coming here since our sophomore year. And if you really think about it," – she picked up her tiny, red apple – "it's not that big of a deal." Lizzie took a bite, a loud _crunch _echoing throughout the deli. "Wow. That was loud," she said, a light blush on her cheeks, hand in front of her mouth to keep the juicy particles from flying out.

She was surprised when Flash laughed – not a normal or fairly restrained laugh, but a _booming_ loud laugh.

He threw his head back, shoulders moving up and down. The way he looked, and the way he found that her slight embarrassment funny was enough for Lizzie to join him. When they finally regained their composers, they moved on with their conversation, leaving long after they'd finished eating.

– A – T – O – W – A – R –

"Oh, look. Ice cream!" said Lizzie, eyes sparkling with excitement upon seeing the portable stand.

When they'd left the deli, the friends began walking around Manhattan, talking about anything and everything that came to mind.

"Do you want some?" he asked.

Lizzie nodded her head.

"Alright, then. Let's get some."

"That's what she said."

Flash snorted. "Good one."

"She said that, too."

Flash couldn't help but laugh.

"My, Flash. I didn't know it doesn't take much to make you laugh," Lizzie remarked.

It was true. In all the time that she knew him, she hadn't known. If she hadn't gotten to know him over the past couple of weeks, she'd probably be as oblivious about Flash's quirks and interests as she had before they'd been assigned as debate partners.

He gave a sheepish smile in reply.

Before they went to the chrome stand, Lizzie retrieved her wallet from her purse. Zipping it open, she found that she only had two dollars left. She frowned, disappointed. She was one short.

"You know what, why don't we skip it? I don't need one, anyway."

"I could pay for it," offered Flash as she took a step forward.

"You don't have to do that, Flash."

"No, really. It's fine. It'll be my treat," he assured her when he noticed the hesitation on her face.

"Well. . . ." Lizzie's eyes drifted in the direction of the stand. Her mouth watered at the thought of having a scoop or two. Looking back at Flash, she finally gave in. "Alright."

"Stay here. I'll be right back," he said.

Lizzie opened her mouth to say that she could come with, but when she saw that it was something he wanted to do alone, she closed it and nodded her head.

Before anything else was spoken, Flash went to order their treats. It was when he returned a few minutes later that she'd forgotten to tell him what she wanted.

_Oh, well. Too late now_, she sighed inside of her head, frustrated with how slow her brain had been.

After being handed a cone, Lizzie noticed that the double scoop contained her favorite flavors: chocolate and strawberry. It could have been a coincidence. . . but the order of the flavors made her wonder (chocolate on the bottom, strawberry on top, just the way she liked it).

"Thanks," she said after a brief moment of staring.

As Lizzie slowly twirled the yellow cone, Flash asked, "That's how you like it, right?"

Okay. Now she _knew_ she hadn't been over thinking things.

"Ah, yeah. It is. How did you know?"

Flash flicked his eyes down at his feet. "I, um, remembered you telling me that you liked strawberry on top of chocolate when I was over at your house for our debate project."

Lizzie was slightly taken aback. She honestly had forgotten that she'd told him this when he came over for the first time. She wanted something sweet after eating their pizza, so she'd gone into the kitchen to prepare a bowl of ice cream for both of them.

How could he remember something like that while she couldn't recall what he'd had?

It was actually very. . . sweet.

Now she was giving a shy smile of her own. "Thank you. That's very thoughtful of you. Not many people remember what I like."

At this, he grinned, gaze still fixed on his shoes. "You're welcome."

The two continued their stroll, eating their desserts in silence, pointing at things that had caught their attention. By the time they finished licking their treats, they'd reached a walkway only feet away from the Williamsburg Bridge.

"Let's play twenty questions," suggested Lizzie after they threw away their sticky napkins in a trashcan. "We can switch back and forth, to keep things interesting and whatnot."

"Alright," agreed Flash, sticking his hands inside of his track jacket's pockets. "Do you want to go first?"

"Sure." She thought for a moment before asking, "What's your favorite color?"

Her question made him look at her questioningly. "Really? That's the best you've got?"

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "Just answer the question, Flash, before I ask you something embarrassing."

"Okay. Fine. It's blue."

A disbelieving snort came from the brunette.

"What? I answered it."

"You're one of _those_ people."

"What people?"

"The ones who are too lazy to decide something as simple as what color is their favorite. And then they decide to go with the first one that pops into their mind. In this case, blue."

"Okay, then. If you think yours is any better, what is it?"

"Lavender," she said. Flash gave her an amused look. "What? What's wrong with lavender?"

"Not creative enough."

"It is, too," Lizzie argued. "I could have said purple or pink, but I didn't."

"Whatever."

She stuck out her tongue. "Okay, since you don't want something as uncreative as the color question, how about this: Would you rather be a tiger or a bald eagle?"

"Now that's a little too crazy."

Lizzie sent him a side glare, her eyes narrowed. "I thought you wanted me to think outside of the box?"

"I did. And you really went above and beyond. . . . A tiger, I guess."

"You don't sound so sure of yourself."

"Who is the one answering the question?"

An over-exaggerated sigh came from Lizzie. "You," she mumbled. Her eyes flicked up, a look of smugness about them. "But now it's _my_ turn to answer."

"I haven't asked you another one yet," said Flash.

"Then get asking."

He shook his head, as if amused with her childish behavior. "Which college are you going to after graduation?"

Lizzie felt herself light up at the mention of college. "I'm auditioning for Juilliard on Saturday."

Flash looked at her, shocked. "You're auditioning for Juilliard?" he asked, a hint of admiration leaking through his words.

A tiny smile came across Lizzie. "Yeah, I am. I've wanted to go there for, like, ever." Stopping, they leaned against the metal bars that had been set up to prevent people from falling into the river. "But even before then, I knew that I wanted to become a professional piano player."

"How long have you been playing?" asked Flash, leaning beside her, putting most of his weight into his crossed arms as they hung on top of the railing.

"Since I was four years old. . . . Not long after my parents died, actually. It helped me cope with their deaths, you know? Heaven knows what would have happened if I'd been put into therapy."

"What about Peter? Did he. . . ."

"Go to therapy," she finished for him. "No. He didn't. He's one of those people who likes to hold everything in until he's ready to talk about it. Actually, now that I think about it, our aunt and uncle did put us in a session or two. It didn't go exactly as planed."

"Really? What happened?" said Flash, wanting to know what happened next.

"Peter refused to talk to anyone. One day, when our therapist asked him a question, he yelled at them. And I don't mean yelled like a normal person, he yelled like he was Braveheart leading the Scottish army into war." Laughs began to come out of Lizzie as she remembered the particular event in time. "He scared the living crap out of the guy we were talking with. The poor man basically told our aunt and uncle that he didn't think he needed to see Peter anymore."

"And what about you? Did they still want to see you?"

"Yes. They did. But we always missed my appointments."

"How come?"

"Well. . . ." Lizzie trailed off as she rubbed the back of her neck, an embarrassed grin evident behind her lips. "I kind of ran around the house yelling, 'You can't catch me! I'm the gingerbread man!' and hid in impossible spots for anyone bigger than a four-year-old to fit into whenever I had to go to a session."

For a moment, Flash only stared at Lizzie, not batting a single eyelash. As Lizzie looked down into the water, she heard his booming laughter. Just like he'd done at the deli, he through his head back, shoulders moving up and down as he did so.

Embarrassed, Lizzie hid her face on top of her clenched hands, face burning red. To be honest, she hadn't given much thought to her anti-therapy actions and words in years. Talking about it to someone else made her realize how special she was when she'd been a little girl.

Even though it wasn't much, it was kind of a big deal for her to tell someone other than her family one of her most embarrassing secrets. The only other person who knew this outside of her aunt and brother was Gwen.

It was strange, Lizzie realized, how she felt comfortable - safe, even - talking to a boy who use to bully other people, a boy who she'd only been friends with for less than a month, about pretty much anything that crossed her mind.

Risking a peek, she noticed that Flash had begun to regain his composure. Upon seeing her brown eyes hidden behind strands of long hair, he leaned down until he was in the same position.

"You know, you're the only other person I've told that to who isn't my family or Gwen," admitted Lizzie as a light, cool breeze quickly blew over her.

The sound of New York hummed the perfect late-night sound track as they continued looking into each other's eyes - blue and brown - filling the silence that passed between them.

Finally, after minutes of saying nothing, Flash asked, "Can you keep a secret?"

"Yes," she whispered, never breaking the hold they had on each other.

"Remember whenever you asked if we could study at my house I always said that we couldn't?"

Even though she'd only asked this question twice, Lizzie remembered. "Mm-hmm. Why?"

"It's because my parents. . . . They're not the best people I know," Flash said, a little hesitant as he shared the reason behind his motives, concerning this. "My mom's not always horrible. In fact, she can be nice on occasion. . . . It's just my dad that I'm not always so sure about. It's like. . . ." He flicked his gaze to the bridge. "He's like a ticking time bomb, ready to go off at any minute. . . . Especially when he drinks."

Lizzie's face fell.

His father was an alcoholic, that much she could tell. He probably abused Flash as well as his older sister, Jesse, physically and verbally. Maybe his mom got the bitter end, too. But the way he described his mother made her think otherwise (and not in the sense where she beat her children, too).

However, whenever Flash talked about Jesse, he had no hint of hatred or remorse towards her. She was the one person that made Flash's eyes light up at the thought or mention of. Jesse was the one bright light in his dark, cruel world.

It was then that Lizzie realized two things about this boy, her _friend_: (1) He'd lashed out at his schoolmates to deal with the pain and learning disabilities he went through; and (2) he'd trusted her enough to share his deepest and darkest secrets (something she knew he wouldn't say to just anyone).

Flash trusted her. . . and she knew that she trusted him, too.

Seeing that he was still lost in his own little world, Lizzie said, "Flash. . . ."

However, she was interrupted by bloodcurdling screams. This caused both teenagers to jolt back to their full body heights, sights focused on the Williamsburg Bridge.

"What the heck is going on up there?" Lizzie wondered out loud. To her, it sounded like they were being pursued by Godzilla. She checked to make sure. As expected, there wasn't a giant Japanese monster towering out of the water.

There was, however, something tossing cars off of the solid surface as if they were toy cars. Lizzie gasped. Who, or what, could/would do such a thing? It wasn't natural.

Suddenly, a tiny blue and red figure that looked like a pinpoint swung in and shot what appeared to be strings at the falling vehicles. Luckily, he never missed. Whenever the figure had caught an automobile, they attached it the edge of the bridge where they lightly swung back and forth.

"Whoa. Did you see that?" exclaimed Flash, excitement in his tone and voice.

"Yeah. I did. What do you suppose it is?" she asked as a hulking shape threw - not tossed - a black car overboard. "Correction. What was _that_?" Lizzie watched as the smaller shape knocked the bigger one over before rescuing the car just in the nick of time.

It was a rhetorical question. She knew it and he knew it. Still, it gave them some confirmation that neither of them were imagining things. . . . Especially when the bigger form _crawled on the side of the freakin' bridge._

"Please tell me that I imagined seeing that," Lizzie begged, not taking her unblinking eyes off of the thing for a single second.

"I was hoping you'd be the one to tell me that."

Lizzie's face wrinkled. Well, that was helpful.

"Lizzie, look," said Flash, drawing her attention away from what it had been following to where he wanted her to focus on.

Following his directions, Lizzie eventually saw the red and blue figure holding onto a flaming car's bumper.

_What is he doing? He's going to get himself killed. . . . Wait. How is he holding onto a one or two ton car _and _a rope?_

If she didn't know any better, she'd say that she'd been sucked into a comic book or a supernatural television show.

Suddenly, the figure lost their hold on the bumper. As the vehicle fell, they screamed, "No!" before dropping another rope. When what appeared to be a little boy was revealed to be the thing he caught with the rope, Lizzie felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. A child could have died tonight. . . but they didn't. They'd been saved by someone who went against practically every law of science known to man.

"Oh. My. Gosh," Lizzie breathed as the form and child returned to the bridge's road. "They. . . . They saved that kid."

Lizzie peeked at Flash to see that he'd been awed by what had played out in front of him.

"Yeah. They did, didn't they?" said Flash.

Looking back, Lizzie watched as the mysterious figure _shot _another rope towards the top of the bridge and swung off into the night.

\- A - T - O - W - A - R -

When they'd finally seen enough of the Williamsburg Bridge, Flash and Lizzie resumed their walk. Only this time, they went to a bus stop where they waited to be picked up.

Turns out, Flash lived somewhere in Queens, too. Where, she wasn't so sure. All she knew was that she didn't have to be alone for the next twenty to thirty minutes. All they seemed to talk about during their ride was what had occurred on the bridge.

Lizzie had to admit, it was pretty interesting to see Flash get into it, sharing what he thought the two figures had been. (One of her favorite theories, and most unrealistic, was an over-grown iguana and a super cowboy.)

By the time they reached Lizzie's house, they found themselves falling into silence. . . . Again.

Lizzie didn't like it. She wanted to keep talking with Flash, but it felt like they'd come to an end for the night. The thought of being able to have something new to share with him the following day made her smile.

Standing at the bottom of her porch, Lizzie looked down at her feet. She drew circles in the concrete with the tip of her shoe. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then," she said when none of them had spoken for quite some time.

"Yeah. I guess so," agreed Flash.

None of them made a move to separate.

Finally, after a few brief moments, Flash said, "Hey, Lizzie?"

Looking up from beneath her dark lashes, she noticed the look of indecision and hesitation his gaze possessed. Finally, he seemed to know what he wanted to do. Slowly, he leaned forward, down towards Lizzie.

At first, she didn't know what to do. Shortly after, she closed her eyes, tilting her head slightly upwards, waiting. However, as his lips neared hers, he stopped. Instead, he pulled away.

A feeling of disappointment came over Lizzie as she opened her eyes. She found him now back at his full height, an air of awkwardness about him. His gaze was fixed on anything but her as he stammered out, "I guess I'll, ah, see you at school, then."

Lizzie watched as he turned around and began to make his way back where they'd come from.

Thoughts of what had happened throughout the night played out before her like she was watching a film on fast forward: How he'd laughed whenever she was embarrassed (and not in a way that made her feel like she was being victimized, rather like two people who found each other amusing and interesting). How he'd remembered something as insignificant as how she liked her ice cream. How he'd opened up to her about his personal life. . . . How disappointed she'd felt when he didn't finish what he started only seconds ago.

Not thinking twice, Lizzie raced forward as she called out, "Flash!"

Just as he turned around, Lizzie came to an abrupt stop. Before he could say anything, she stood on the tips of her toes, placed her hands on both sides of his face, and placed a light kiss on top of his lips.

Shocked at first, Flash stood there. However, he quickly got over it. He closed his own eyes, placed his large hands on her mid-back, and returned her kiss.

Not long after, the two broke apart. The separation didn't go unnoticed to either of them.

Lizzie felt a little colder now that she wasn't kissing Flash. Crossing her arms across her chest, Lizzie gave a shy smile, a light blush covering her cheeks as they burned from being stretched. . . or maybe because of her previous activity.

Giving him a peck on the cheek, Lizzie said, "Good-night, Flash."

Flash could only look at her, stunned, as she turned and made her way indoors. Lizzie waved to him before closing the door.

\- A - T - O - W - A - R -

Unbeknownst to either of them, someone watched as the events unfolded from above.

To be honest, they didn't know _what_ to think. . . . Especially when they saw Flash place a hand on the cheek that had been blessed by Lizzie's lips. A beaming smile spread across his face before he turned and made their way down the street.

Despite how happy the two looked, Peter couldn't help but feel the pull on his heart.

His little sister was growing up.

* * *

**So many feels! Lizzie and Flash shared their first kiss. (SQUEEE!)**

**I almost had them smooch during the bridge scene, but then a voice in my head said, "No. Wait. Not yet." And when I got into a small argument with my brain, it told me how cute it would be to have it take place in front of her house (and to have a certain someone watch it take place).**

**GAH! I can't wait to share with you what else I have in mind.**

**Oh! I forgot to mention this. Even thought I've intended Flash to have an older sister for quite some time, Jesse isn't mine. I did a little background research and learned that Flash has a sister, a mother, and an abusive father. I was actually kind of excited since Marvel and I basically wanted to give Flash a crappy excuse of a father. So, now that I think about it, I don't own Flash's family, either (why, God, why?!). ****I'm not going to lie. I'm actually kind of nervous that if Sony decides to use Flash's character in any of the future ASM films they'll throw in a whole bunch of things that kind of mess with my ideas. (DARN YOU, SONY! Why didn't you include or mention him at least _once_ in the sequel? Oh, well. I'm just going to have to go with the flow - not much else I can do, really.)**

**One more thing. If any of you are gifted with Photoshop, I would like to offer you a chance to make a cover photo for _A Twist of Webs and Reality. _If you are interested, please PM me. If you accept this challenge, you'll be given credit (obviously) and a spoiler or two as to what I have planned. **

**Until next time, see you later :)**


	9. What's on Your Mind?

**Before we begin, I'd like to say, "Hello, guest reviewer from Holland (waves)! I'm glad you like Lizzie's story :)" **

**I know, I know. "How come they get a response and I don't?" **

**Before you stab me with your pitchforks, hear me out. There are a few reasons why I haven't already done so. Here are some of the main reason: (a) I haven't sent a single thank you card to anyone in four years - which is bad (don't be like me, concerning this area); and (b) some of you are guests, therefore I can't thank you the way I want to.**

**However, I have a solution. From here on out, I will respond to as many reviews as I can via chapter(s).**

**RESPONSES**

****Guest Number 2: Yes! I know, right? I'm happy they kissed, too. I hope you'll be satisfied with chapter nine's Lash (or maybe Fizzie?) moments. ****

**Oh! Oh! Let's launch a ship! So, what do you think it should be called? Lash, Fizzie, or something else. Please, don't be afraid to tell me what you think. I love hearing from you guys.**

**Now, on with the show!**

* * *

"What's on your mind?" asked Aunt May as Lizzie sat in her usual seat for breakfast.

Looking up from the bowl of fruit loops that had been placed before her, the brunette said, "Nothing. Why?"

Aunt May shrugged her shoulders as she placed a plate of toast and orange juice upon Lizzie's place mat. "Well. . . it's just that you came down here with this look you always get when you can't help but think about something that had recently happened to you."

Lizzie bit her lip. She didn't know that her thoughts had been displayed for all the world to see.

Her aunt was right. She _was _thinking about something. And not just this morning, but as she laid in bed the previous evening, as well. The kiss and the emotions she'd felt had sent her to cloud nine. Everything felt new and different and terrifying. Never before had she felt something as she had when she kissed Flash.

Of course, she wouldn't have done it if he hadn't of tried to kiss her. The disappointment she'd felt when he hadn't followed through shocked her later on as she replayed everything.

Up until the previous night, she never thought that she'd actually. . . feel something more than resentment or friendship for Flash.

As she listed off the reasons why she should and shouldn't like him, she found that there was more that she liked about the teenaged boy than disliked.

Lizzie liked how when he laughed – _really _laughed – it boomed throughout the room, how his head always tilted back until it faced the ceiling as his shoulders moved up and down. She liked how he remembered things about her that she never remembered telling him, that he trusted her like they'd known each other for years. She even liked the way he lit up whenever he talked about his sister and how passionate he'd become whenever he was really into a conversation.

However, Lizzie wasn't even close to forgetting about what he did to not only her brother, but other classmates, too. . . . But since he told her about his father. . . she felt like she could come to forgive him one day.

Aunt May seemed to realize what was going on inside of her niece's mind. "It has something to do with that friend of yours, doesn't it?"

When Lizzie didn't respond, it gave Aunt May all the confirmation she needed. "It _is _about him. Did he hurt you?"

"Aunt May – "

"Answer the damn question, Elizabeth."

Lizzie inwardly cringed at the use of her first name. "No, Aunt May. He didn't hurt me." She took a bite of her cereal before washing it down with a swig of OJ.

A look of relief came over her aunt. "Good. He's lucky he didn't, 'cause then he would have had me to deal with."

Lizzie couldn't help but shake her head in amusement. Aunt May could be such a mother hen sometimes.

While Lizzie continued to eat her food, Aunt May asked another question. "If he didn't hurt you, that means. . . ." A spark ignited in her kind, motherly gaze. "Oh, my. You like him, don't you?

Her spoon paused midair, body tense. She knew there was no turning back now that the bloodhound had finally sniffed her out. "Uh. . . ."

"Hey," said Peter, saving Lizzie from being questioned any further.

She had to force down a sigh of great relief. Even if she only had a few more minutes of freedom from Aunt May's questions, Lizzie welcomed them gladly with open arms.

"Hi. How did you sleep?" asked his sister as Aunt May set his meal before him.

"Pretty good, I guess," said Peter, taking a bite of his Cheerios.

As he sat, hunched above his bowl, Lizzie couldn't help but notice how he avoided making eye contact with her.

"Is something wrong, Pete?" she asked, hoping that she was just reading too much into something that didn't matter.

Peter gave her a quick glance before looking at his cereal. "Nothing. I'm good. Thanks for asking, though," Peter said.

At this, Lizzie felt her face fall. Just when she thought they'd gotten over not talking to each other. . . . Not wanting to appear hurt, Lizzie put all of her remaining focus into eating her meal.

As the twins ate in silence, their aunt couldn't help but notice how they were acting. It looked like one of them had pissed off the other without them realizing what they'd done. What that was, she wasn't sure. All she could do was hope that they'd get over whatever was happening between them.

While Aunt May finished washing her morning dishes, a breaking news report dominated the news program she'd been listening to.

Captain Stacy's image filled the tiny television's screen. He was standing in front of a stand filled with microphones. Reporters surrounded him, all shouting questions that they were dying to know.

"At approximately nine p.m. last night, an incident took place on the Williamsburg Bridge."

This caught Lizzie's attention. She had a feeling it was about the things she and Flash had seen.

"Much of what occurred is merely speculation at this point. However, several eyewitnesses at the crime scene, as well as our own, preliminary findings have positively placed one individual at the scene. Which is why this morning, I am issuing an arrest warrant for the masked vigilante known. . . as Spider-Man."

_Huh. So that's who the red and blue figure was_, thought Lizzie.

Then it crossed her mind. Why would there be an arrest out for this. . . Spider-Man when he'd helped save lives?

Lizzie did care about Captain Stacy. He was usually around at some point whenever she visited his apartment. In fact, he even came to her uncle's funeral because he cared about Lizzie and her well-being.

He must be really pissed off if he was willing to do this.

"That's so dumb," stated Lizzie as the news shifted to the next story. "Why would they have an arrest warrant out for someone who did more good than harm?"

Peter and Aunt May looked at her, both curious.

"Why do you say that, sweetheart?" Aunt May asked.

"Because I kind of saw what happened. Flash and I were by the bridge that Spider-Man was at." A smile came across her face as she remembered what happened. "I don't know_ how _he did everything that he did, but what I _do _know is that he saved a little boy's life, as well as many other lives, too." Lizzie rubbed the back of her neck. "I'm sorry. I was rambling, wasn't I?"

"No, no, no. It's fine," assured Peter.

"Okay. Good. I was afraid I annoyed the living daylights out of you two. Wait. Where are you going?" Lizzie asked as Peter slid back his chair and got up.

"School," he said, still avoiding eye contact as he slung his backpack over his shoulder.

"It's a half hour before we have to go," she called out as he made his way towards the door.

"I need to be their early," he said over his shoulder.

Before either of the women could say anything else, he closed the door and began to descend the porch steps.

Lizzie felt hurt at first, but soon traded it in for frustration. She was done playing around.

After taking a final bite of her cereal, Lizzie got up, grabbed her backpack, and followed after Peter.

\- A - T - O - W - A - R -

"What's eating you?" Lizzie asked once she'd caught up to her twin.

Peter, who'd been listening to his iPod, took out an earbud so he could listen to her. "What?" he asked, eyes fixed ahead, hands in his jacket's pockets.

"You're avoiding me again, aren't you?" When he didn't respond, Lizzie said, "Come on. I know you better than pretty much everyone. When you're bothered by something, you tend to not look or talk to anyone more than you need to."

"So, you think I'm bothered by something?" Peter asked, now matching his sister's slower pace as they walked to the nearest train station.

"I don't _think_, I _know_. . . . Care to tell me what's going on in that head of yours, Pete?"

"Ah. . . . Not really, no. Um. . . ."

Lizzie raised both of her eyebrows, realizing that she beginning to make progress. "Um, what? 'Um' as in '_Om'_? That's what's been bothering you? A Hindu mantra?"

"No, no, no, no. Not that. It's, ah." Peter gave a nervous laugh. He reeked of awkwardness as he tried to figure out what to say next.

"I don't know what's so hard. I mean, sorry if I'm being pushy or whatever, but I'm actually kind of pissed. We just got over not talking to each other, and now we're losing progress."

"I know that you're pissed," Peter said, pushing the sides of his pockets, making them bulge out. "You _sound_ pissed." He took a quick glance at his fuming sister. "Wow. You really are pissed."

"Yes, I'm pissed. Wanna know why? Because you're avoiding my question," said Lizzie, voice raised.

"I'm not avoiding your question!" he argued.

"Yes you are. . . ." Lizzie paused, trying to calm down. She was madder towards him than she'd been in months. "You know what. Forget it. Have fun living in denial. Don't forget to send me a postcard while you're there."

As Lizzie stormed away, she heard him say, "I saw you kiss Flash last night."

This made her stop in her tracks. Peeking over her shoulder, she saw that Peter was looking at his feet, hands clenched around his bag's straps.

As she turned around, he continued on. "Last night, when he walked you home. I saw everything, heard everything. I mean, how couldn't I? My window was open, and you two. . . ." He gave another laugh around a nervous smile. "You two seemed to have hit it off pretty well."

Now Lizzie felt guilty. . . but not enough to regret last night's decision.

She turned and walked back where she'd left him. Once she stood in front of Peter, who was still staring at the ground, Lizzie said, "Hey. Look, I'm sorry I yelled. It's just. . . ." She sighed. "I was afraid you were refusing to talk to me like you did after Uncle Ben died." Tears began to fill her gaze. "I was scared we were drifting apart again." Her cheeks became wet as warm, silent tear drops began to fall from her eyes.

"Hey." Peter wrapped his arms around her tiny body. He brought her close, resting his forehead on top of her head. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't. . . . I didn't mean to do that. I'm sorry. I promise I won't do it again."

"I sure hope so. Otherwise I'm going to have to kick your butt into next year." Breaking apart, Lizzie wiped any remaining tears with the back of her hand. "Alright. Let's go."

Just as she was ready to leave, Peter said, "Hey, Liz?"

"Yeah, Pete?"

"Do you like him? Does he. . . make you feel happy?"

Lizzie remembered the way she'd felt when she kissed him, the way he'd held her like she was the most precious and valuable person in all of creation. She couldn't hold back the smile that spread across her face. "Yes. I do. And he does, Peter. He really does."

"Good," said Peter, resuming their walk. "Just so you know, if he ever hurts you, I'll make sure he regrets doing so."

"I'll be sure to tell you if he does," Lizzie chuckled.

After stretching his long and lanky arms above his head, Peter brought them both back down to his side, shoving Lizzie as he did so. The force was enough to knock her almost off-balance.

As she regained her footing, Peter took off down the street, Lizzie following close behind him, both laughing as she did so.

\- A - T - O - W - A - R -

Since they were a little over an hour early, Lizzie decided to walk around the area before she made her way inside. Because it wasn't anything new to Peter, he told her to be careful and that he'd see her later on.

After parting ways at the station they'd gotten off of, Lizzie decided to buy a cup of coffee and the newest copy of _Seventeen Magazine _from one of the many newsstands.

Once she'd paid for the glossy edition, Lizzie made her way inside the nearest coffee shop.

Inside, Lizzie found that there was a decent sized line. As she waited for her turn, she noticed that the man standing in front of her looked familiar. . . . A couple of moments later she realized _why _this was so.

"Dr. Connors?" she asked, slightly unsure if it was actually him.

The tall, blonde man turned around upon hearing her voice. When she saw his face, Lizzie instantly recognized him as Dr. Connors, the man who'd been in the clipping Peter had found in their father's briefcase.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you," she said in a rush once she saw the confused look on the older man's face. "I'm Lizzie Parker. My brother, Peter, told me that he'd visited you earlier this month."

At the mention of her brother's name, as well as her surname, Dr. Connors no longer wondered who she was.

"Ah, Lizzie. You've grown since the last time I saw you. I mean, the last _picture_ your father showed me," he added once she gained the same face he wore only a moment ago. "What can I do for you?"

"Oh, nothing, really." She rubbed the back of her neck as she searched for the next words to say. "I mean, I just thought you looked familiar. I honestly didn't know if it was you for certain or not."

"Yes. It was me you saw," Dr. Connors confirmed as the line moved another step forward.

"I really wanted to come and meet you the day Peter visited your home, but I had to work."

"I'm sorry to hear that." His gaze flicked towards the flat screen hanging in one of the shop's corners. "Have you heard the news about the thing that was on the Williamsburg Bridge last night, Miss Parker?" he asked.

She followed his sightline. Sure enough, the anchor on the television screen was talking about the previous evening's event.

"Yeah, I have. I was kind of there. Well, not on the bridge, but near enough to see what was going on."

Looking back at Dr. Connors, Lizzie noticed that he had a curious look dancing within his gaze.

"Tell me. Was it a marvelous sight to behold? Watching the creature at work?"

Lizzie didn't know why, but the way he said it made her feel uneasy.

"Um. . . . I suppose so. I mean, it wasn't cool of whatever it was to do what it did," she said with a hint of hesitation in her voice.

"In the creature's defense, you could say it was a necessary evil. Besides, no one had been injured. . . or killed. What many have not yet realized is that he can be quite dangerous. . . . That they need to stay out of its way if they wish to not be harmed."

Now Lizzie was beyond uneasy. There was something about him that terrified her. The way he'd spoken about the thing she'd seen the previous evening made it sound like he _enjoyed_ the fact that it was a powerful force. . . . Like he wanted it to hurt someone.

The image of the kid hanging on the end of Spider-Man's rope came back to her.

Getting out of her thoughts, Lizzie fixed her narrowed gaze on the older man. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're hoping that thing succeeds in inflicting harm."

Before Doctor Connors could respond to her statement, the barista asked for his order.

"A green tea," he said before giving his name and payment. "Lizzie, I do not think you understand the creature's motives," he said as he stepped aside. "All he seems to want is to be recognized, to be feared, worshiped like a god. Perhaps it would be wise to take heed to his desires."

As if perfectly timed, he was given his beverage.

While he walked away, he said over his shoulder, "Who knows? Maybe he wants to do something good for this city."

All Lizzie could do was stare after the scientist. She only came back to reality when the man behind the counter asked what she wanted to drink.

No longer in the mood for caffeine, Lizzie decided to leave for school.

\- A - T - O - W - A - R -

Upon entering Midtown Science High School, she soon found Flash standing in front of the trophy case, talking to a few of his friends.

Before Lizzie could decide what to do next, Flash's eyes flicked towards her. When he noticed her standing near the entrance, he said something to the rest of the group to make them disperse. One of them clasped his hand around Flash's and gave his back a pat.

Once his friends had left, Lizzie took this as a sign that he wanted to talk to her.

When she stood in front of him, Flash bent his head so he could look at her. "Hey."

"Hey," she said in response.

"Ah, listen, about last night?"

"Yes?" asked Lizzie.

"I was wondering if. . . . If what happened was just a spur of the moment, or if it meant something more. . . . And I was just thinking that maybe, um, if it wasn't if we could. . . . You know, if we could - "

Flash was interrupted when Lizzie stood on the tips of her toes, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and placed her lips on top of his.

Breaking apart, Lizzie grinned. "Yeah. I think we should."

The teenaged boy could only stare at her with a slightly open mouth as she got back down to her normal height.

"See you in class," she said as she began the short walk to her locker.

\- A - T - O - W - A - R -

Lizzie really wished that she hadn't procrastinated reading the assigned book for her English class. To be honest, she should have started reading it earlier that week. But _no_. She _had_ to set it aside, continuously, until the night before it was due.

At this rate, she'd be up until midnight.

It was of great relief when her cell phone rang, giving her an excuse to take a break.

It was probably Gwen who'd thought of something else to add about the kiss Peter had given her the night he'd had dinner at her place. (From the sounds of the conversation they'd had last night, the two were now dating.)

Tossing her copy of _Julius Caesar _facedown on her bed, Lizzie grabbed her cell and answered it. "Yeah?"

"_Hey, Lizzie_."

Okay. Not Gwen. Nope. It was even better.

"Hi, Flash," she said as she rolled onto her back, crossing one leg over the other. "What's up?"

"_Nothing much. I just wanted to see how you were doing._"

Lizzie began to move her feet one at a time to a rhythm of their own making. "Thanks. And I'm doing pretty good, since it's the reason that you called."

"_Well. . . . It's not just because of that._"

She felt one of her eyebrows raise in curiosity at this. "What else do you want to know, Flash?"

"_Are you doing anything right now. Aside from talking to me?_"

_Wow. He's catching on fast_, thought Lizzie, impressed with how he'd begun to learn her sense of humor.

"I'm reading a book for English. Why?"

"_Think you could take a_ _break_?" he asked.

"Maybe. I guess it depends how long the break lasts."

"_What if you looked out your window? Would that be __reason enough_?"

Lizzie jolted upright. Rolling off of her mattress, she quickly got back on her feet before going to her window. Pulling back her purple curtains, she immediately noticed someone standing below.

Flash smiled upon seeing her. He waved with the hand that wasn't holding his cell phone to his ear. Lizzie waved back.

"_So. What do you think?_" he asked. "_Do you want to take me up on my offer?_"

She couldn't help but give a beaming smile. No one had ever paid her a visit this late at night just so they could ask her to join them on an adventure - big or small.

Lizzie leaned against the window and placed the tip of her pointer finger against it. "I'm all yours, my good knight."

* * *

**Look at that. So much fluff. . . . I LOVE IT (does a happy dance, takes a bow)!**

****So, I asked my brother which Harry is his favorite. I'm more than happy to announce that he prefers James Franco's interpretation of the character than Dane DeHaan's. Don't get me wrong, DeHaan did a great job, but Franco will always be my favorite Osborn :)****

**I know there hasn't been a lot of action, but I do know that chapters ten and eleven will not fail you. (Oh, my gosh! You guys are _totally_ going to flip out once you read chapter ten - I'm the one who wrote it, and I'm still flipping out!)**

**This has nothing to do with the _Spider-Man _fandom, but I'm so excited for** **AHS, S4! ****I read an article today that further explained the plot and characters, and I've gotta say, it's already taken my breath away. I'm in love with vintage circuses, so even before I learned what they were centering this season around, I couldn't help but shout for joy. ****I know it's going to be _the most terrifying_ season yet. (I mean, come on! One of their villains is a _freaking killer clown_. How could it not be?)**

**Okay. Enough ranting. **

**Until next time, see you later, my lovelies :)**


	10. The Lizard

**Hey, guys. Guess what? Guess what? Guess. What? It's time for the Lizard to attack Peter and Lizzie's school. OH! You're _so _going to hate me once you finish reading this :)**

* * *

School was finally out for the weekend. Which meant one thing: Lizzie needed to finish making preparations for her Juilliard audition for tomorrow evening.

She wished she could say that she didn't feel nervous, but she did. The mere thought of feeling like she was going to pass out or be sick the day before the actual event made her want to laugh.

Mr. Boice, the honors concert band teacher, noticed how on edge his student looked throughout the hour. When the bell had rung, signaling the beginning of their temporary freedom, he leaned forward in his desk's chair and asked, "Is everything alright, Miss Parker?"

Her bowed head jerked up at the address he'd given her. "Hmm? Oh, yeah. I'm fine, Mr. Boice."

The middle-aged man fixed his sight on his pupil, knowing eyes just peeking above his chunky, black glasses. "You most certainly don't look like you are." When she looked down at her lap, he stated, "It's about your audition." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," she admitted. "I'm just so. . . . I don't know. Anxious? Nervous, I guess?"

The sound of someone getting up onto their feet echoed throughout the room, the soles of their feet squeaking from time-to-time across the tiled floor. A presence hovered above Lizzie, their arms crossed.

"Why do you feel this way? I know that you're more than 'good enough' to make it in. And don't be modest. You're the second best musician this school has," said Mr. Boice, stubbornly.

"Who's the first?"

"Me, of course." He chuckled when Lizzie gave a tinny grin. "I know that once you're done with Juilliard, you'll be even better than me."

"What if I'm not apart of the eight percent that gets in? What happens then?" she asked, brown gaze dull as she thought of the worst things imaginable for a musician.

"Then you keep on doing what you do best: Music. Who knows? Maybe you'll find an even better opportunity than Julliard." He took his glasses off and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "Don't say this to anyone else, but I've always thought they were too snobby for their own good. Which is why" - he placed his corrective lens back where they belonged - "I can rest easy in the fact that you'll be able to teach them a thing or two during your audition."

He reached out one of his hands for Lizzie to take. She accepted it, gathering her things once she was back on her feet.

"I know that I shouldn't have favorites, Miss Parker, but I do. And if I have a favorite, that says a lot about them as a person."

It was true. Although generally a kind and quiet man, Mr. Boice was known as one of the most hardworking teachers at Midtown Science High School. He pushed those who were a part of his lessons beyond their limits to the point where many had decided to transfer out of his class before they made it to the end of their first week.

Knowing that he had been referring to her, Lizzie couldn't help but blush. "Thank you, Mr. Boice. That means a lot to me."

Mr. Boice nodded his head. "I expect a full report on Monday, Miss Parker."

"Yes, sir. Understood."

While Mr. Boice stayed behind to finish up his work for the day, Lizzie left.

\- A - T - O - W - A - R -

The last thing Lizzie expected to happen was for her classmates to come rushing down the hallways as she made her way towards her locker.

"What the heck?" she wondered aloud a mere second before she was swarmed by a good number of bodies.

It was near impossible to fight against it, so much so that she almost fell on her face. (She really wasn't in the mood to reenact Mufasa's death scene.) As she let herself be carried towards the doors which led outside, she spotted Gwen.

"Gwen!" shouted Lizzie over the shrieks of terror. Fighting her way through, she reached her hand out, gripping onto the blonde's shoulder once she reached her. "What's going on?! Why's everyone acting like this?!"

"There's a giant lizard on the loose!"

"A _what_?!" Lizzie wasn't sure she'd heard her friend right.

"I said there's a giant lizard!"

Okay. Now Lizzie knew she hadn't misinterpreted Gwen's words.

"What?! How is that even -" An _umph _came from Lizzie as she almost tripped down the main entrance's outdoor steps.

By the time she'd regained her bearings, Gwen was no longer in sight. When the throng finally died down, Lizzie began to scan the area, hoping that she'd catch a glimpse of her friend.

Finally, she found her. . . rushing back inside.

As Gwen disappeared from Lizzie's line of sight, she felt a panic settle inside of her. What the heck was Gwen _thinking_? She'd just told Lizzie that there was a giant freakin' lizard in the school. If what she said was true, then why on _Earth _did she just go back into the danger zone?

Knowing that she'd regret her next decision, Lizzie released a groan of frustration. Before she could chicken out, the brunette ran after her best friend. She was _so _going to kill Gwen once she found her.

\- A - T - O - W - A - R -

"Gwen!" she called out once she re-entered the building. "Gwen? Where are you?"

Choosing a random direction, Lizzie took off, scanning every inch of the school that was as humanly possible without falling on her face. If Lizzie wasn't worrying about her best friend, she would have felt freaked out by the emptiness and eerie silence that now filled the academic space.

Skidding to a halt as she round a corner, Lizzie felt her feet almost slip out from beneath her. (She felt like Bambi trying to skate on ice.)

As she regained her balance, something charged into view.

What Lizzie saw made her stop dead in her tracks.

There, only feet away, was the largest reptile Lizzie had ever seen. He stood on his hind legs, making him look near-human. There was a snarl on his face, as if something had majorly pissed him off.

A wide-eyed Lizzie took an involuntary hitched breath. (She would have screamed, but it seemed to have become lost on its way up.)

At the sound she'd made, the great beast whipped his colossal head in her direction. A giant smirk soon replaced his snarl. . . as if he recognized her and had a sinister plan in mind.

"Lizzie Parker," he purred, voice rumbling in his chest.

She let out a squeak, covering her mouth soon after as if it she'd just revealed where she was hiding.

Even though her legs felt as if they were made of stone, she immediately took off once he began to charge in her direction. However, she didn't get very far. Before she even made it halfway down the hall, the creature reached forward.

The force of the touch he placed on her tiny body sent her downwards. When her head hit the ground, she became unconscious.

\- A - T - O - W - A - R -

Sirens filled the late afternoon air as the panic that had spread across the school began to settle down.

Paramedics checked on the students and staff to make sure they hadn't gone into shock or injured themselves during the mad rush outdoors. Reporters from different newspapers and news stations asked some of those who had witnessed what had occurred. Even the police had their own role to play as they went to see if the giant lizard was still inside.

Among this was Eugene Thompson, known as Flash by his fellow peers (he'd earned the name when he played flag football fifth grade year).

Having already been confirmed that he was fine (just a little spooked by the event), he sat on top of one of the outdoor cafeteria's tabletops. His posture was hunched, hands knitted together as he repeatedly tightened and loosened his grip, eyebrows knitted together in concern.

He hadn't seen Lizzie, the girl he was going out with, since lunch.

Before that thing attacked the school, he was going to meet up with her. He knew how nervous she felt about her audition for Juilliard, which was to occur less than twenty-four hours from now. He was going to take her to the movies to help take her mind off of things for a couple of hours. . . .

He kept glancing around the courtyard, hoping that he'd see her. As time went on, his worry for the girl he'd had a major crush on since freshman year increased. It killed him not knowing if she was safe or not. The sooner he found out where she was, the better.

It didn't help much when he spotted his father among a couple of his fellow NYPD officers.

In pissed Flash off that the last person he wanted to see was in his eyesight while the girl he was worried sick about was nowhere to be seen.

As he stared at the ground, deep in thought, someone moving towards him caught his eye. Looking towards the one who'd drawn in his attention, Flash felt a rush of hope overcome him.

It was Gwen Stacy, Lizzie's closest friend.

Flash stood on his feet.

"Flash. Have you seen Lizzie? I can't find her anywhere," the blonde said in a rush.

Just as quick as it had arrived, any hope he'd gained disappeared.

"No," he said, face now fallen. "I don't know where she is."

Gwen's gaze flicked to the side before looking forward again. "Did you ask the police if they've seen her?"

"No. Not yet," said Flash.

Even though it was unlikely, it still gave him a small feeling of hope. (Maybe this time it wouldn't die.)

Going up to a random officer who wasn't busy giving or taking orders, Gwen asked, "Hi. Have you or anyone else seen a girl who's about five-foot-five with long brown hair and brown eyes? Her name's Lizzie Parker."

Seeing how desperate the two teenagers looked, the officer felt pity for them. "No. We haven't. I'm sorry. But we'll let you know if we find her."

The two shared a look as the uniformed man walked away.

Now it was certain. Lizzie was officially missing.

\- A - T - O - W - A - R -

Walking down a nasty sewer was definitely not Peter's idea of a fun afterschool activity. (He made a mental note to highly discourage others from doing so if they expressed in interest in this particular hobby.)

There were puddles of filthy water filled with who knows what. The water that flowed down the tunnels made him want to pee, and _don't_ even get him started on the smell!

Despite how grossed out he was, Peter sucked it up. He needed to go after Dr. Connors, the giant lizard that had basically destroyed half of his high school. If this led to a secret layer, then he needed to find it before he did any further damage.

As Peter slowly made his way through, careful not to make more noise than needed, his cell phone began to vibrate.

Wondering who could be calling him during one of the most risky situations he'd ever been in, he reached inside his backpack. Looking at the caller ID, he saw his girlfriend's number.

"Hey," he said once he answered.

"_Where are you_?" asked Gwen, concern evident in her voice.

"I'm fine. I'm okay," Peter said in a rush, trying to assure her that he was safe. . . for now, at least. "I'm in the sewer, tracking him. I gotta stop him before anyone gets hurt."

"_Peter,_" said Gwen, trying to get his attention.

"But we need an antidote," he continued on, choosing to ignore whatever she had to say. They needed to stop Dr. Connors before it was too late.

"_Peter._"

"Do you know how to run a serum?"

"Peter." Her voice was now firm, demanding that he shut up and listen. "_It's Lizzie_."

Peter stopped in his tracks, heart skipping a beat at the way his sister's name was mentioned. "What is it? What happened? Is she alright? Was she hurt?"

"_I don't know. No one knows where she is. She's missing, Peter. Lizzie's gone, and I'm scared that Connors might have done something to her_," said Gwen in a rush, voice cracking as she fought back the tears which threatened to come out.

When neither of them had spoken for quite some time, Gwen said, "_What if she noticed when I went in to help you? Oh, my gosh._" A nervous laugh followed this. "_She did, didn't she?_"

Gwen was, of course, referring to when she'd found him and Dr. Connors fighting in the walkway that led to the other side of the building. She'd hit the giant lizard with a trophy, drawing his attention away from Peter, aka Spider-Man.

Peter had a feeling she was right. If Lizzie had seen her best friend run back inside where she could get hurt, there was no doubt in his mind that she'd gone after Gwen. And now she was most likely at the mercy of the Lizard.

"Gwen, listen to me. We need to make that antidote. It's the only way we can help Lizzie."

When she didn't say anything in response, Peter took it as a sign of agreement.

"Do you know how to make a serum?" he asked, fighting to keep his tone even.

"_Yeah. I do it for Connors all the time._"

"Okay. Great, great, great, great. Okay, I need you to go to Oscorp. I need you to access the cross-species file. It's a blue serum. File 12389."

"_Okay. I'm on my way._"

"I'm going to find her, alright? I'm not going to let Connors hurt her," promised Peter, having now resumed his sewage stroll.

"_Be safe,_" she whispered before hanging up.

Peter soon did the same.

There was a fury burning within him now. If Dr. Connors had taken or harmed his baby sister in any way, shape, or form. . . . Needless to say, Hell was going to look like Heaven by the time Peter was finished with him.

\- A - T - O - W - A - R -

When Lizzie came to, she felt her limp body hanging from something cold and scaly. Through silted eyes, Lizzie could see grimy, shallow water. . . and a long, thick tale.

This image brought back the last thing she'd seen before. . . before she'd become unconscious (which was a first for her).

A giant lizard had attacked her school, sending everyone into a panic. Of course, that didn't stop Gwen from going back inside once they reached the safety zone _outside _of the building.

Now Lizzie knew for sure she regretted going after her blonde BFFL.

She loved Gwen to death, but she wasn't pleased that she found something straight out of a horror film instead of her. . . . And that's when her brain finally caught up with her. Lizzie. Was. Being. Carried. By. A. Giant. Freaking. Lizard.

When she opened her mouth to scream, she found it pretty much impossible. Her throat felt dry and swollen, like she'd already screamed herself horse. And if that didn't suck enough already, her head felt like she'd been hit with a sledge hammer (talk about a major headache).

Lizzie groaned instead.

Not long after her verbal expression, the two came to a stop.

Lizzie felt the creature put her down onto the ground. (She was glad it was a walkway that wasn't covered in waste.) He made sure her body was leaning against the curved wall before leaning down to look her in the eye.

A terrified moan escaped her chapped lips when she saw his moon-sized, reptilian eyes peering into her brown very human ones.

"Lizzie Parker. So nice to see you again."

Under normal circumstances, she might have said something witty in response. However, this was more than normal. This crossed the line of reality and make-believe.

"How. . . . How do you know my name?" she asked, horrified that this monster knew who she was. Had he been following her? Why did he look like they'd crossed paths before?

"Why, Lizzie. Don't you recognize me? It's Dr. Curtis Connors. We met yesterday morning in that coffee shop, remember?"

Her eyes widened at this. "Dr. . . . . Dr. Connors? Oh, my gosh. What have you done to yourself?"

"I've merely made myself a better being, Lizzie. My human self was nothing but a weak and pathetic obstacle that I needed to overcome," he said, deep voice rumbling in his chest, like a crocodile. "In fact, all of humanity is held back by their weaknesses. Each and everyone of them imperfect."

Reaching a giant, scaled hand out, he gently touched the side of Lizzie's cheek. She flinched once their skin made contact, heartbeat increasing in speed as it frantically pounded against her ribcage.

Dr. Connors blinked, gaze focused on the side of her face. Taking his clawed hand away, he showed Lizzie something dark and wet that now covered his fingers.

"You see this, Lizzie Parker? This is _your_ blood. Blood that had been spilt when you hit your head. If you had to ability to heal at an increased rate, the wound you now bare would have long been healed by now. Because you don't, your face is now covered in red."

Lizzie heard herself give a chocked sob when he snapped his attention back on her, a large grin now on his unnatural face.

"I plan to make the world a better place. To give them all the ability to survive. Which is why I created the serum that has liberated me from my bondage. That is why I am heading to Oscorp, to bless all of New York with my gift of invincibility. No more pain, no more weakness, no more cripples."

Unzipping the black duffle bag he had slung over his broad shoulder, Dr. Connors took out a silver container filled with a green liquid.

"What is that?" she asked, voice trembling.

Lizzie gasped when Dr. Connors brought it in front of himself.

"The future."

When he slowly brought it towards her arm, Lizzie scurried away as fast and as far as her sore body could carry her.

"What are you doing? Stop! _Please _stop. Leave me alone! Keep that thing away from me!" she cried out as she tried to get away from the monstrous being.

Unfortunately, she didn't get very far.

As quick as a whip, Dr. Connors grabbed her hand, preventing her from going any further.

"Every Adam needs an Eve," he simply stated in his unnatural voice.

Lizzie kicked, hoping that she'd be able to get him to let go. "Please! Please! No! Please!" she screamed as he brought the sharp needle to the exposed soft spot of her arm, tears of fear now falling down her cheeks.

She watched in horror as the serum entered her body.

Not long after, she felt an excruciating pain set her veins aflame. She fell on her back, body arched, silent cries of agony filling the air as her body began to shift and stretch in every way imaginable.

\- A - T - O - W - A - R -

Dr. Curtis Connors watched on, awed, as Lizzie Parker - _Spider-Man's_ sister - flopped around like a fish on a dock.

His creation was now being shared, improving the young female's cells. He'd meant what he said about her being Eve. Eve meant 'life' in Hebrew. In the book Genesis, she's said to the first mother of humanity.

How appropriate, how _fitting_, it was for Lizzie to be called so.

As he walked away, he heard a splash, telling him that she'd fallen into the water.

Yes. Lizzie Parker had been given a great honor. She was the first female of a new and better species.

The lizards would soon rule the world.

* * *

**See? I told you that you'd hate me. **

**Now you know why Lizzie wasn't bitten by a radioactive spider. Yes, I know. I've totally pissed a majority of you off. ("No! What the heck were you thinking?!" "This is the dumbest idea you've had so far." "I QUIT!" "Peace out, fool." Wait! Come back here!) **

**I'm really sorry if this wasn't what you were expecting. I honestly could not resist. To me, I felt like this would spice the story up a little bit. I wanted Lizzie to get in on some of the action, therefore the end result of this chapter.**

**Sigh. I really, really, really hope I'm not the only one who thought this was a brilliant idea.**

**Feel free to yell at me. **

**On a happier note, I'm working on a tumblr for _A Twist of Webs and Reality. _And let's be honest, once I'm caught up with the films, we're going to need something to tide us over until the next film comes out. **


	11. Realizations

**I'm so, so, so, so, so sorry, you guys! I never intended to be gone this long. Well, I guess the only way I could make my long absence up to you is to just dive right in . . . after I respond to your reviews, of course.**

**thedivergentcake/Beth: Thanks so much! I'm glad you like it :) And you'll just have to wait and see if Peter will be able to save Lizzie in time.**

**omegahurricane: I understand. You made some really good points. However, since I sent you a PM, I feel like I've already given you a fair response. Thanks for giving this story a shot, though.**

**Emma: I feel you, girl. I feel you. I'm happy that you like the twins' relationship, 'cause I love it so much it hurts. It's great that you like how I used different points of view throughout the last chapter. (Peter's POV for chapter ten was my absolute favorite to write, in case you were wondering.)**

**ZabuzasGirl: Thanks! You are totally fabulous, you know. (Best motivator ever!) **

**chibi-no-baka:** **Yay! A Fizzie lover. I'm glad you like them together. And a double thank you for calling Lizzie likable :) I'm just . . . SQUEE! I'm so, so, so amazed.**

**Guest #1: I'm excited, too. **

**Guest #2: Agreed . . . . At least, I believe it to be cool . . . or maybe hot? Warm, or perhaps lukewarm? (Ha! I totally crack myself up.)**

**Guest #3: Writing on, as requested!**

**Guest #4: I'm so happy that you think it's amazing.**

**and last, but certainly not least,**

**Guest #5: I'm alive (reasons were stated in the PM I sent you)! Thanks for the concern, dear :) I'm taking comfort in the fact that people will probably miss me when I actually die. **

**This chapter is for ****ZabuzasGirl. Her help, patience, and guidance motivated me to continue on with Lizzie's tale. Without her, I'd most likely had been absent for an even longer period of time. **

**Enjoy the next installment, my lovelies! **

* * *

Pain. Excruciating, indescribable agony.

That was the best Lizzie could come up with to describe her experience (if she'd been able to form an understandable statement, that is).

She felt like she couldn't breath, couldn't _think_. It was like she was being pulled and stretched in every possible way.

She wanted it to be over so badly.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of damnation, any form of discomfort came to an abrupt halt. It was like . . . like her body had become indestructible, free of any physical burdens she may have carried. Her headache was gone, as well as the soreness her throat had mysteriously acquired during her earlier unconscious state.

There was something wet and semi-cool caressing her cheeks, lapping at the ridges of her face.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Lizzie opened her eyes . . . or what she assumed were her eyes. (Something had felt off as she parted her eyelids, like her whole facial anatomy had been messed with by a careless deity.)

What greeted her was the curved wall of a sewer, reminding Lizzie that what she'd experienced wasn't a dream . . . or a nightmare.

Wanting to see how serious her injury was from hitting her school's floor (thanks to the one and only Dr. Connors), Lizzie began to bring her hand up to her face . . . only to stop way before she made it above her chest.

There, right in front of her, was a clawed and scaly hand.

Gasping, the brunette shot straight up, bringing her body into a sitting position. Her panicked gasps increased as she noticed that what should have been her legs were now long, yellowish-green limbs and what should have been her clothes were now shredded pieces of fabric resting in scattered piles around her . . . her . . . _her _body.

Glancing down, Lizzie realized how big of a mistake she'd made once she saw what was looking back at her - gaze wide and full of fear.

Instead of the brown-eyed girl with the bang-covered forehead she was used to, a bald and scaly face looked back up at her. Their gaze was a golden yellow color, black pupils silted like a cat's. Their mouth had no lips, nor did it end until it was near what Lizzie could only assume was its ears.

A shriek of terror escaped Lizzie once she realized that the creature looking back at her was herself.

But it _couldn't _be her. It _shouldn't _be her. How . . . . And that's when it hit her: Whatever that green liquid Dr. Connors shot into her veins had done this to her. It . . . _he _had turned her into a monster, something so unrecognizable and non-human.

A sob (could it be a considered a sob if it sounded more like a shrieking, wounded animal?) came from Lizzie as she covered her face, shoulders shacking as she trembled.

_This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't real. This _isn't _real._

How? Why? What had she done to deserve this? This wasn't a blessing. _This_ was a curse.

_Wait. Blessing. Blessing. _

Why was this bothering her? What could possibly be so important about . . . .

Lizzie's breath hitched in shock once she remembered why this particular word made her feel uneasy: _"I plan to make the world a better place. To give them all the ability to survive. Which is why I created the serum that has liberated me from my bondage. That is why I am heading to Oscorp, to bless all of New York with my gift of invincibility. No more pain, no more weakness, no more cripples."_

_Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no._

The eighteen-year-old felt a wave of pure horror course thorough her nervous system.

Dr. Connors was going to somehow turn everyone else in New York into giant lizards.

How he was going to do this didn't matter. In fact, Lizzie had no idea what could transform the inhabitants of a massive city in one night. But she knew without a doubt that he'd already figured this specific detail out.

She had to stop him. She just _had _to. Otherwise, everyone was going to end up like her.

* * *

When Dr. Curt Connors was a little boy, his father brought home a gecko from a nearby pet store instead of a dog from the local animal shelter.

He remembered this day clearly, as if it had only happened the previous evening.

It was just before dinnertime, for his mother was standing by the kitchen sink while the oven warmed their meal. Her cornflower blonde hair was up in its usual bun, the red paisley patterned oven mitts Curt loved playing with as a child covering her elegant hands.

His father had just come home from another hard day's work, plopping a container no bigger than a radio on top of the table the family of three ate their first two meals at.

It was around this time that Curt had rushed out of his room, stopping at the staircase once he heard the terrible sound his mother made whenever something terrified her.

"What the bloody hell is _that_?!" his mother had spat once she'd finished screeching like a mouse caught in a trap while her only son leaned his head part-way through the railing he sat in front of, just out of his parents' line of sight.

His father, a quiet and easy-going man, took off the hat he'd worn outdoors and scratched the back of his surprisingly thick head of dirty blonde hair. "It's a gecko, Emily."

"I know what it is!" she hissed in a dangerously low tone of voice. "What I meant to say was where is the dog you promised to get our son?" Her brilliant blue eyes had begun to examine the tiny creature as it lazily made its way across its tank, buggy gaze darting from one thing to the next. It didn't take much of a brain to come to the conclusion that the reptile was curious about its new surroundings. "You said that if he passed this school term you'd get him that dog he's been so keen about."

"You think I've forgotten that?" he'd asked, as if offended by his wife's accusation. "I know what I said, but by the time I got there . . . ." There was a somberness about the middle-aged man, a heavy burden of regret resting upon his shoulders as it screamed its presence and purpose to the world.

Having understood what her husband meant, Curt's mother's face softened, eyes gaining a soft glaze as she fought to keep herself from crying. Instead of speaking, she nodded her head. Turning her attention to the newest member of their kin, she asked, "Do you think he'll like it?"

Before he could respond, Curt padded into the kitchen. He was a young boy of six or seven, still too innocent to understand that the canine he wanted more than life itself was no longer among the living.

Unbeknownst to his parents, the child had heard the argument that had taken place, watched from above as their previous interaction took place.

He'd only interrupted them when he noticed his mother was about to cry.

"Mummy?" Curt timidly asked as he came to a stop beside the checkered kitchen table. "Where's my doggy?"

His mother chocked back a sob while placing one of her hands in front of her cherry colored lips.

Knowing that his wife wouldn't be able to find an explanation for why the dog he'd been promised wasn't there, Curt's father bent down to his level. A crocked smile spread across his stubbled face. "Hey, sport. How are you?"

Ignoring this, Curt repeated, "Where's my doggy?"

His father's smile fell. "Curt, there is no dog. He found the family who lost him."

"But . . . but . . . . " Curt's lips had begun to wobble at this point. "But I want my doggy."

As the child began to cry, his father placed both of his giant hands on top of his shoulders. "I know. I know how much you wanted him. But he's happy now. He's with the people who love him the most. Can't you be happy that he found his family?"

Seeing that this was starting to do the trick, his father continued with, "Wouldn't you want the same thing if he was our dog? If you were lost, too?"

Curt only nodded his head, sniffing as he did so. Some snot had dribbled down his nose, causing him to run a chubby fist beneath it.

"I promise that we'll find you another dog. But for now, I want you to meet someone very special." Picking Curt up and placing him on top of one of the cushioned chairs, his father was able to give him a better view of what lay on top of the shinny surface. "Curtis. Say hello to Mr. Gecko. He's yours."

That had been so long ago. Over forty years, to be exact. Dr. Connors had loved that tiny gecko until its death fifteen years later. He'd named it Froggie, something that gave him a good laugh when he was old enough to realize how different his beloved companion was from an actual frog.

If someone were to ask him what was the start of his career as a scientist, he'd say it was the day his father brought home a gecko.

Maybe if he'd been given the dog which had died while at the animal shelter, he wouldn't be as fascinated with science as he was today . . . . Or at least, the _old _him. The one who was weak and pathetic. The one who wanted to grow back the limb he'd lost so long ago. The one who wanted to help those who were like him.

The new him, however, had been given an awakening of sorts. This version of himself, the one who was a god among men, wanted to go above and beyond.

He'd come to the realization that human beings were lesser individuals, not reaching the great potential that they could achieve if only they work for it harder than any previously recorded event.

No. They would never reach the climax of their existence if they were to remain in their oblivious selves.

That is why he'd made the decision only a mere twelve hours ago to spread the one thing that could break humanity out of the shells they found comfort in, the one that prevented them from evolving into something greater.

It was this thought, this giant leap in history, that motivated him, gave him the confidence needed to carry out his perfect plan.

Now, standing just outside of the Canal Street Station, he peered out at the city known as New York. His reptilian eyes, golden as a flurry of autumn leaves, were narrowed as he examined his surroundings. The sun was setting for the day, saying farewell to one seemingly normal day before patiently waiting for the following morning to occur.

Unbeknown to even the giant star that kept the world's inhabitants warm, to the people whom lived their utterly dull schedules to the best of their abilities, everything was about to change.

By the time the last of the natural light had disappeared from the inky sky, Connors sensed as if a presence was watching him, waiting for the right opportunity to pounce. His chest rumbled as he let loose a low growl, his mouth parted to smell his surroundings. (He would _not_ let a simple mistake stop him from completing his righteous quest.)

Just then, something whizzed towards him, hitting him square in the right shoulder. It had come from the dark silhouette that stood beside a white car only feet away.

_Damn_.

He should have known better than to let his guard down, even for a fraction of a second.

However, he didn't have much time to think.

Before he could he even blink, Connors felt another force hit him in his left shoulder.

_Bullets! From a gun!_

Connors would laugh, chortle, if he wasn't being pushed back by a line of highly trained officers. In fact, they had him surrounded, blocking any possible exit he could have noticed.

As they began to close in on him, Connors felt an increase in bullets penetrate his scaly skin. This, on top of the fact that he needed to think of another way of making his way to Oscorp Tower, made him roar with rage.

_No!_

He had a mission! He needed to get to Oscorp, to better the lives of thousands! They would remain feebleminded creatures who scurried about the Earth like vermin, praying that they wouldn't be squashed by the almighty metaphorical boot. They would forever remain weak.

Thinking fast, Connors dropped down to the pavement, his body giving a heavy thud as it met the ground. One of his clawed hands was wrapped protectively around the duffle bag he wore, the other above his head.

He knew it would work. He was more than absolutely sure. These men wouldn't know what hit them until it was too late. But they would thank him later. Oh, how they would thank him. They'd worship Connors like the god he is, the Moses who lead them to their very own Promise Land . . . . He just had to wait for the opportune moment. Like any predator, he needed to make the best 'kill' possible. Otherwise, his prey would flee from his clutches.

Just when the tip of a gun tentatively - yet firmly - poked his hardened skin, Connors felt his body quickly heal itself. His strength had returned to its full capacity.

His eyes shot open, fully focused.

_Now!_

Faster than lighting, Connors grabbed the sliver canister that had rolled out of his bag. Once that medium-sized button had been pressed, the green gas shot out and bombarded the shocked men. Everything in their vicinity became engulfed in the glorious chemical.

Their screams were expected, echoing into the night as their very cells began to improve by the second. Spider-Man's sister, Lizzie, had experienced something similar. Though she wasn't as vocal as her fellow homo sapiens, the young Parker had endured the same miraculous feeling, the one that changed her for the greater good.

And as he stood atop a hulking vehicle, one that had been meant to take him far away from the heart of New York City, Connors released a mighty roar as even more of his creation burst into the open air.

_You screech now in fear. But rest assured, you will be thanking me minutes from now. We will join hands, my brothers and sisters, as the world becomes a better place. The utopia we have all longed for and dreamt of will soon become a reality. And when we look upon this brief moment in time, we will all marvel at how much we have improved from the primitive prisons we were all trapped within. _

The age of the lizards was fastly approaching.

* * *

**Not my best, but not my worst. (Kind of used it as a filler chapter because, ha, writer's block, man. #Oops!) **

**Please note that I will be editing my previous chapters in addition to this one. Don't worry about there being any major changes. I'm just fixing any grammar errors I'd missed and cleaning everything up so it's a bit more presentable. **

**So, quick update before we part.**

**My freshman year of college is officially over. First semester went smoother than I anticipated. I made the Dean's List, earned a writing award (thanks, Professor A.!), and had a highly enjoyable winter break. **

**Second semester was a bit of a pain in the ass. It stressed me out way beyond words could ever describe. I had to drop out of a class because of the harm the professor had done to my mental and physical health. Don't get me wrong. He wasn't a bad person. It's just the way he handled things that drove me to near insanity (that's college for you, ladies and gentlemen). ****On a side note, I actually had to go to the doctor recently to see what was wrong with me and how I could heal my body from the damage that had been done.**

**Yeah. Like I said: STRESS! Major cause for keeping this here writer from doing what she loves to do.**

**I've changed quite a bit since the last time we've met. A lot of things have been said, relationships strengthened, secrets admitted, and questions about who I am further pondered upon. **

**I know this wasn't the best chapter, but I needed to get it out there. I think I was in shock over what had happened to Lizzie, so much so that I didn't know where I should take the next few scenes. (Yay, writer's block! Thou art a bitch, my oldest enemy.) ****Thankfully, I finally figured it out! **

**Sadly, it will be quite some time before the next chapter is up. My life is pretty busy right now, despite it being summer break. I have a job to attend, a musical to preform, and trips to be made (i.e., visiting my grandfather's grave down yonder/many hours away from where I live, a summer class to take/make up for the one I withdrew from, college trips that'll help me decide where to transfer after I earn my Associates of Arts degree, and a very much needed family vacation in the great state of Wisconsin - the land of cheese and the great outdoors!). I'll try my best to get the next chapter up and running, but no promises . . . though I do love and appreciate you all very much :)**

**Well, until next time, see you later :)**


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